THE ALHAMBEA 



fHacmillan's! mirfert ^[mnicau anti Englisij Clas^in' 

A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 



i6mo 



Cloth 



25 cents each 



Addison's Sir Roger de v^overley. 

Andersen's Fairy Tales. 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments. 

Arnold's Sonrab and Rustum. 

Austen's Pride and Prejudice. 

Bacon's Essays. 

Bible (Memorable Passages f rorr . 

Blackmore's Lorna Doone. 

Browning's Shorter Poems. 

Browning, Mrs., Poems (Selected). 

Bryant's Thanatop?;s. etc. 

Bulwer's Last Days of Pompeii. 

Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. 

Burke's Speech on Conciliation. 

Burns' Poems (Selections from). 

Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 
Byron's Shorter Poems. 
Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 
Carlyle's Heroes and Hero "Worship. 
Carroll's Alice's Adventures in "Wonder- 
land Ullustrated). 
Chaucer's Prologue and Knight's Tale. 
Church's The Story of the Iliad. 
Church's The Story of the Odyssey. 
Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. 
Cooper's The Deerslayer. 
Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 
Cooper'? The Spy- 
Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 
Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 
De Quincey's Confe.snfons of an English 

Opium- Eater. 
De Quincey's Joan of Arc. and The Eng- 
lish Mail-Coach. 
Dickens* A Christmas Carol, and The 

Cricket on the Hearth. 
Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. 
Dickens' David Copperfield- 
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 
Early American Orations. 1760-1824. 
Edwards' (Jonathan) Sermons. 
Eliot's Silas Marner. 
Emerson's Essays. 
Emerson's Early Poems. 
Emerson's Representative Men. 
English Narrative Poems. 
Epoch-making Papers in U. S. Histcr-. 



Franklin's .AiUtobiography. 

Gaskell's Crantord. 

C-oldsmith's The Deserted Village, She 
Stoops to Conquer, and The Good- 
natured Man. 

Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 

Gray's Elegy, etc., and Cowper's John 
Gilpin, etc. 

Grimm's Fairy Tales. 

Hale's The Man Without a Country. 

Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. 

Hawthorne's Mosses from an O'd 
Manse. 

Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. 

Hawthorne's The House of the Seven 
Gables. 

Hawthorne's Twice-told Tales (.Selections 
from). 

Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 

Holmes' Poems. 

Homer's Iliad (Translated). 

Homer's Odvssey (Translated). 

Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. 

Huxley's Selected Essays and Address?" 

Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 

Irving's Knickerbocker. 

Irving's The Alhambra. 

Irving's Sketch Book v 

Irving's Tales of a Traveller. 

Keary's Heroes of Asgard. 

Kempis. a : The Imitation of Chn'-\ 

Kingsley's The Heroes 

Lamb's The Essays of Eiia. 

Lamb's Tales from Shakespear». 

Lincoln's Addresses, Inaugurals, an . 

Letters. 
Longfellow's Evangel'ne. 
Longfellow's Hiawatha. 
Longfellow's Miles Standish. 
Longfellow's Miles Standish and Minor 

Poems. 
Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn. 
Lowell's The Vision of Sir LaunfaL 
Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 
Macaulay's Essav on Hastings. 
Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive. 
Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 




iilacmtllan'5 IPorfect 2lmrrtcau anti lEntjlislj Claissics 

A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc 



i6mo 



Cloth 



25 cents each 



Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 

Vlacaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson. 

Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur. 

Milton's Comus and Other Poems. 

Milton's Paradise Lost, Books I. and IL 

Old English Ballads. 

Old Testament (Selections from). 

Out of the Northland. 

Palgrave's Golden Treasury. 

Parkman's Oregon Trail. 

Plutarch's Lives (.Caesar, Brutus, and 
Mark Antony). 

Poe's Poems. 

Poe's Prose Tales (Selections from). 

Poems, Narrative and Lyrical. 

Pope's Homer's Iliad. 

Pope's Homer's Odyssey. 

Pope's The Rape of the Lock. 

Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies- 

Ruskin'sThe Crown of Wild Olive and 
Queen of the Air. 

Scott's Ivanhoe. 

Scott's Kenilworth. 

Scott's Lady of the Lake. 

Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

Scott'? Marmion. 

Scott's Quentin Durward. 

Scott's The Talisman. 

S'-'ect Orations. 

Se'ect Poems, for required reading in 
Secondary Schools. 

S^nkespeare's As You Like It. 

Sh-ikespeare's As You Like It (Tudor). 

Shikespeare's Comedy of Errors (Tu- 
dor). 

Shakespeare's Coriolanus (Tudor) 

Shakespeare's Hamlet 

Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part I (Tudor) 

Shakespeare's Henry V. 

Shakespeare's Henry VI, Part I (Tudor). 

Shakespeare's Henrv VIM (Tudor). 

Shakespeare's Julius Csesar. 



Shakespeare's King Lear. 

Shakespeare's Macbeth. 

Shakespeare's Macbeth (Tudor). 

Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's 
Dream. 

Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's 
Dream (Tudor). 

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. 

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice (Tu- 
dor). 

Shakespeare's Richard II. 

Shakespeare's Romeoand Juliet(Tudor). 

Shakespeare's The Tempest. 

Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida (Tu- 
dor). 

Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 

Shelley and Keats: Poems. 

Sheridan's The Rivals and The School 
for Scandal. 

Southern Poets : Selections. 

Southern Orators: Selections. 

Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 

Stevenso I's Kidnapped. 

Stevenson's The Master of Ballantrae. 

Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey, and 
An Inland Voyage. 

Stevenson's Treasure Island. 

Swift's Gulliver's Travels. 

Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 

Tennyson's In Memoriam. 

Tennyson's The Princess. 

Tennyson's Shorter Poems. 

Thackeray's English Humourists. 

Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 

Thoreau's 'Walden. 

Virgil's ^neid. 

Washington's Farewell Address, and 
Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. 

Whittier's Snow-Bound and Other Early 
Poems. 

Woolman's Journal. 

Wordsworth's Shorter Poems. 




*J^j<y ^(s:o 



?i 



n 



^ / 




WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE ALHAMBEA 



BY 

WASHINGTON IRVING 



EDITED BY 

ALEEED M^ HITCHCOCK, M.A. 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH IN THE HARTFORD PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOI 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON : MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd, 
1912 

AU righifi reserved 

^\ 



o^^_ 







S<^ 






> 



Copyright, 1S99, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped December, iSgg. Reprinted Augusi? 
October, igoo; April, July, 1901 j March, 1902 ; March. 
September, 1003: March, 1904 ". February, September, 1905; 
January, 1906; March, 1907 ; May, 1908; October, 1509 ; June, 
1910 ; April, 1911 ; Februar}', August, 1912. 



EXCHANGE 

o 

JUi^ 12 1944 

Serial Record Division 
Tl;c Library oft 01 gf ess 

Copy 



CONTENTS 



PAGK 

The Journey 1 

Palace of the Alhambra ....... 31 

Important Negotiations — The Author succeeds to the 

Throne op Boabdil ....... 44 

Inhabitants or the Alhambra ...... 50 

The Hall of Ambassadors ....... 55 

The Jesuits' Library ........ 60 

Alhamar, the Founder of the Alhambra ... 60 

YusEF Abul Hagig, the Finisher of the Alhambra . 67 
The Mysterious Chambers . . . . . . .71 

Panorama from the To^vER or Comares .... 79 

The Truant . SQ 

The Balcony 89 

The Adventure of the Mason ...... 95 

The Court of Lions 98 

The Abencerrages . 105 

Mementos of Boabdil . , .116 

Public Fetes of Granada 121 

Local Traditions 128 

The House of the Weathercock 130 

V 



VI 



CONTEXTS 



LectEnt) of the Arabiax Astrologer 
Visitors to the Alhambra .... 
Relics and Genealogies .... 

The Generalife , 

Legend of Prince Ahmed al Kamel ; or, The Pilgrim 
OF Love ....... 

A Kamble among the Hills 

Legend of the Moor's Legacy . 

The Tower of Las Infantas 

Legend of the Three Beautiful Princesses 

Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra . 

The Veteran 

The Governor and the Notary 

Governor Manco and the Soldier . 

A Ff;te in the Alhambra .... 

Legend of the T\vo Discreet Statues 

The Crusade of the Grand Master of AlcAn 

Spanish Romance ...... 

Legend of Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa 
Poets and Poetry of Moslem Andalus . 
An Expedition in Quest of a Diploma 
The Legend of the Enchanted Soldier . 
The Author's Fareavell to Granada 



tar A 



PAGK 

133 
152 

150 
150 

IGl 
192 
200 
221 
222 
24(1 
201 
203 
270 
287 
292 
309 
317 
310 
320 
332 
335 
350 



LIFE OF IRVING 



WashinOtTON Irving was born in New York, April 3, 1783, 
and died at Sunnysido, his country home near Tarrytovvn, N. Y,, 
Nov. 28, 1859. These (Uites are easily nnnenibered if we bear 
in nund that his lile lies, roughly speaking, between the close 
of the Revolution and the beginning of the Civil War. 

Altiiougii of no great sigiiilieanee, it is interesting to know 
that the Irvings traced their ancestry back to one who was 
Robert Bruee's armor-bearer. Irving's father was born in one 
of the Orkmy Islands. When a young man he went to sea and 
after a little became a minor officer on a British packet sailing 
between Falmoutli and New York. At Falmouth he met and 
married Sarah Sanders, and soon after, still a young man, he 
left the sea and became a merchant in New York. He was a 
good man, strictly lionest, a stern Presbyteiian. Mrs. Irving 
was a warm-hearted woman of tine nature and good intellect. 
One gains the impression that the children respected their 
father and loved their mother. 

Wasliington was the youngest of eleven children, seven of 
whom lived to be men and women. The story of his boyhood 
is not remarkable. He was lively, full of mischief At school 
he did reasonably well without showing unusual brilliancy. 
His scliool days were over at sixteen. He was a reading 
boy : PU(irinis Frof/reitit, Robinson Cruxoe, and 77ie Ai'aldan 
Nights were early fiivorites with him. Ecpially delightful was 
a set of twenty small volumes of voyages and travels entitled 
The World Displayed. Another work that kindled his imagi- 



Yiii LIFE OF IRVING 

nation and gave him a desire to travel was a History of the 
Civil Wars of Granada. He was fond, too, of the theatre, 
and saw many plays, we are told, when his strict father thought 
him in bed. More important still, he liked to scribble. 
Tradition tells of a poem, written when he was but ten, to 
ridicule a playmate ; and of a play composed at thirteen. 
About this time, too, he published a few " mojal essays " in 
The Weekly Museum. Fortunately these productions are 
lost. They are of value only because they show an early 
tendency toward authorship. 

From the close of his school days till he was twenty-one 
there is little to chronicle. He studied law in a half-hearted 
way, but law was as distasteful to him as Latin. The monotony 
was broken by two trips, forerunners of the many long journeys 
which made Irving conspicuous as a traveller. The first of these 
was up the Hudson to Albany, thence overland to Johnstown 
where a married sister lived ; the other was to Montreal. We 
can hardly realize how much these expeditions meant to young 
Irving. The Hudson must be slowly sailed up in a sloop ; 
from Albany to Montreal much of the way lay through wild 
forests, over roads frequently almost impassable. There were 
discomforts to be endured, and real dangers. Adventures came 
unsought. During this time, moreover, Irving published in Tht 
Morniwj Chronicle, a journal edited by his brother Peter, a 
few letters signed Jonathan Oldstyle. They were modelleii 
after The Spectator Papers, typical eighteenth-century essays, 
humorously satirizing New York manners from the standpoint 
of an old man. They are of moderate merit, clever enough for 
a young man of nineteen, and furnish a valuable, though limited, 
picture of society as it was in 1800. 

Summarizing these twenty one years, we should remember 
that Irving was well born ; that his schooling amounted to 
little, much of his education being obtained through associating 
freely with intelligent people, through journeys long for those 



LIFE OF IRVING ix 

days, and through reading books — particularly such as quicken 
the imagination and give one a desire to travel. He had a 
good disposition that won friends ; he was unhampered by 
poverty. He had already learned the delights of composition. 

Irving was in poor health. Hoping that travel might do 
him good, his brothers sent him to Europe for two years, dur- 
ing which he visited France, Sicily, Italy, Holland, and Eng- 
land. It was purely a pleasure trip, not without adventures 
with pirates by sea and robbers by land. He met delightful 
people everywhere, and occasionally the "young American 
traveller " was lionized. His longest stay was at Paris, where 
he attended the theatre more regularly than he did the lecture- 
room. No doubt some of the time during these two years 
might have been spent more profitably ; for the most part, how- 
ever, the trip was successful, and Irving returned home in 
excellent health. 

This brings us to a period of nine years (1806-1815) following 
his return from Europe. He was soon admitted to the bar, 
and shared his brother John's office in Wall Street. Hardly can 
it be said that he practised law. A few years later he went 
into partnership with his brothers, Ebenezer and Peter, pro- 
prietors of a large importing house having a branch in Liver- 
pool. But it was plainly understood that the youngest brother 
should share the profits without doing any great amount of 
work. This arrangement, by means of which the Irvings had 
practically a common purse, continued through life. We may 
think of Irving, therefore, not as closely employed in business 
affairs, but as an agreeable man about town; one of the "sad 
dogs " whom he had satirized in the Oldstyle letters ; a young 
man of literary promise who had been abroad — a rarer thing 
then than now, when one may cross the Atlantic between two 
Saturdays. Occasionally he made a business trip to Washing- 
ton or Montreal, occasionally a pleasure trip to Baltimore or 
Philadelphia ; but for the most part he remained in New York. 



X LIFE OF IRVING 

Out of this manner of living grew his second literary ven- 
ture. In company with his brother William and his good 
friend Paulding, he published Salmagundi, " a small pamphlet 
in neat yellow covers," which appeared at irregular intervals 
for about a year — twenty numbers in all. "Our intention," 
proclaimed the editors under appropriate pen names, " is 
simply to instruct the young, reform the old, correct the town, 
and castigate the age." It caused a breeze in the little city, 
its pleasantly sharp satire meeting much the same reception as 
was accorded The Spectator of one hundred years before. 

Two years later (1809) Irving published A History of Neiv 
York by Diedrich Knickerbocker, which established his reputa- 
tion. It is a comic history of the city under early Dutch rule. 
The work was heralded by a number of sham advertisements, 
the purport of. which was that an eccentric old man, Diedrich 
Knickerbocker, had recently disappeared from his lodgings. 
He had left behind him nothing but a "curious manuscript" 
which his landlord proposed to publish to pay for the ola 
gentleman's board. It was a great success. Some were slow 
to appreciate its humor, and a few thought their sacred ances- 
tors had been handled too freely ; but at last the joke was 
appreciated by all. How very popular this history has been is 
attested by the liberal way in which the word Knickerbocker 
has been iisetl in the commercial world. It is like the word 
Pickwick in England and Waverley in Scotland. 

Except a few minor essays, written for the Analectic Maga- 
zine, of which Irving was for a' time editor, the two publications 
mentioned are all that belong to this period. Before passing 
on, however, mention should be made of an event of great 
significance — the death of Matilda Hoffman, a girl of beautiful 
character, to whom Irving was engaged. This extreme sorrow 
colored the remainder of his life. He did not marrj^, and after 
his death evidence was found that he had cherished this sorrow 
through many years. It is well to remember Miss Hotfmau 



LIFE OF IRVING xi 

in connection with the ancestor who served Robert Bruce the 
one typifying the tender sentiment, the other the romantic 
element, in Irving's character. 

And now we come to a period of seventeen years (1815-1832) 
spent abroad in England, France, and Spain, with side trips to 
Scotland, Wales, and Germany. It is odd that he should have 
remained abroad so long, even though we remember that one of 
his sisters then lived in Birmingham, and his brother Peter 
lived in Liverpool ; remember, too, how fond he was of travel 
The long stay was unpremeditated ; one thing after another 
prevented his return. To begin with, his brother was in poor 
health, unable to attend to business ; affairs were in a bad way 
owing to a depression in trade. For three years, except for 
occasional vacation trips, one of which took him to Abbotsford 
and resulted in a lifelong friendship with Sir Walter, the young 
author kept closely to business, a novel and far from pleasant 
experience. Matters grew worse, and finally the firm became 
bankrupt. It was a hard blow to bear, yet it resulted eventu- 
ally in good ; for Irving, although not absolutely penniless, felt 
that he must write steadily to gain a living. He went to Lon- 
don, like so many other authors before his day, and trusted 
entirely to his pen. 

In 1819-1820 appeared The Sketch-Booh, first issued in Amer- 
ica in seven thin volumes published at irregular intervals, after- 
wards published in England in two volumes. We are all 
familiar with its contents — fanciful and sentimental essays, 
with here and there a humorous tale gracefully told. The sales 
were tremendous, for those days, in England as well as America 
Two years later Bracehridge Hall appeared, written principally 
in Pans, where Irving was then living with his invalid brother 
It is really a second sketch-book, telling of the holiday happen- 
ings at an English country seat. Two or three tales mingle 
with the narrative. Two years later still, after a year or so of 
travel in central Europe, a third sketch-book appeared, Tales oj 



Xil LIFE OF IRVING 

a Traveller, a collection of stories picked up here and there dur- 
ing his travels, or half remembered from early reading. The 
author imagines himself interrupted in a voyage down the Rhine 
by illness, which confines him to an inn. He writes to while 
away time. These three works, so like in character, do not 
differ greatly in merit. The Sketch-Boole, partly because first 
to appear, partly because it contains " Rip Van Winkle " and 
" The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," remains the favorite. It is 
the most American of the three. 

In 1826, Irving, having now lived abroad about ten years, 
turned his attention to a new field. For years Spain had been 
to him an enchanted land. A desire to visit the country, kindled 
years before through reading Gines Perez de Hytas's History 
of the Civil Wars of Granada, had been increased by a study 
of Spanish literature. We next hear of him in Madrid, attached 
for convenience to the American legation, hard at work. In 
two years appeared The Life and Voyages of Christopher 
Columbus, based principally upon a Spanish work just then 
being published. It was followed three years later by The 
Voyages of the Companions of Columbus. 

But Spain abounds in legends, its history is most romantic ; 
and it was inevitable that as Irving pored over parchment 
tomes his interest should wander from that which pertained to 
Columbus alone. Particularly was he pleased with the part 
the Moors had played in Spanish history. A year after Voyages 
of Columbus appeared, he published The Conquest of Granada, 
and two years later still The Alhambra. The first of these 
tells, in graceful English, how the Moors, after seven hundred 
years' dominion, were driven out of Spain. The Alhambra, per- 
haps the best of all his sketch-books, grew out of a three months' 
residence in the almost deserted palace and fortification of Al- 
hambra in Granada. It consists of chapters of Moorish history, 
accounts of daily happenings, and a number of Moorish legends. 

It was while dreaming away his time most happily in this 



LIFE OF IRVING xiii 

ancient palace and resting after the severe labor connected with 
his Spanish works, that news reached Irving of his appointment 
as Secretary of the American Legation to London, a diplomatic 
position which he filled with credit for two years. At the end 
of this period he resigned his post to return to America. 

Much might be said of what Irving did during these seven- 
teen years abroad besides the writing of books. Although lie 
suffered frequently from ill health, the time passed pleasantly 
on tlie w^hole. He read many books, saw many plays, travelled 
where fancy led. He mingled much with society of the best 
kind, meeting most of the noted men and women of the day. 
He made warm friendships everywhere. His reputation as a 
writer and his gentlemanly bearing were a passport wherever 
he went. The Royal Academy of History in Madrid awarded 
him a medal; Oxford conferred the degree of LL.D. amid 
cries of "Knickerbocker" and "Rip Van Winkle." Nor were 
honors lacking in his own country. On his arrival in New 
York he was greeted with a public dinner ; later he was asked 
to run as candidate for mayor of the city. He declined to 
accept a cabinet position in Washington. With fame had 
come moderate wealth, for his books had all brought large 
sums; and although he had lost much through bad invest- 
ments and had given liberal sums to his brother Peter, he 
was in comfortable circumstances. 

Irving remained in America ten years. Out of a trip taken 
with a government commission to the Indian tribes vi tlie 
Great Plains, came A Tour of the Prairie. This led to 
Astoria, an account of Mr. Aster's attempt to found a settle- 
ment at the mouth of the Columbia River. The Adventure& 
of Captain Bonneville makes a tliird book dealing with the 
West. These little -read books are inferior to his other 
works. Their subject-matter excludes the possibility of great 
originality; yet they form a trio of interest to all who are 
fond of adventure as it appeared in the old trapping daya> 



xiv LIFE GF IRVING 

Ahbofsford and Kewstead Abbey, containing accounts of the 
homes of Scott and Byron, and Legends of the Conquest of 
S2Mm, are two more vohimes belonging to this period. 

For many years Irving had been a rover ; now, somewhat 
advanced in years, he longed for a home. All the world knows 
of Sunnyside. It was a simple farmstead at first, but under 
Irving's care it grew into a beautiful home to which nephews, 
nieces, and other available relatives were welcomed. Here his 
invalid brother Peter, now a broken old man, came to end his 
days. It was an expensive establishment to maintain, yet 
Irving labored willingly to keep it up at a time of life when 
most men would have rested. It was, indirectly, to maintain 
this snug little home in which so many of his relatives were 
comfortably housed that he accepted, when fifty-nine years old, 
an appointment as Minister to Spain. It was a high honor, but 
it took him to a country threatened repeatedly with civil war, 
making his position a difficult one to fill. Ill health, moreover, 
added discomfort, and he was further disappointed in finding no 
time for literary work. 

At the end of four years we find him back at Sunnyside, 
-udiere he remained till his death. These last years form a 
happy ending to a long and useful life. He was in his own 
home, surrounded by those who loved him. Sunnyside was a 
literary shrine to which the great writers of the day came 
gladly, and were always warmly welcomed. And yet, there 
is an element of sadness about his declining years. Though 
strength was failing him, he felt that he must labor on, partly 
to support his home, partly to leave behind him a monumental 
work — something better than his pen had yet achieved, a gift 
to his country. This magnum ojnis was The Life of George 
Washington. In addition he carefully revised all his works, 
and added to them two volumes, Mahomet and his Successoi's 
ami A Life of Oliver Goldsmith. This was a heavy task for 
an old man. It was his constant fear that he should not live 



AN ESTIMATE OF IRVING XV 

to complete all that he had planned to do. Scarcely ha(t the 
last page of tlie magnum opus been written when he passed 
away. 

His death was a matter for a nation's mourning. Flags in 
New York were at half-mast. Throughout tlie length and 
breadth of the land, even beyond the Atlantic, thousands 
mourned who felt the loss a personal one. His body lies in 
the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery near Sunnyside. 

Several lives of Irving have been written. By far the best 
is The Life and Letiers of Washington Irving, by his nephew, 
Pierre M. Irving, a work in four volumes. Mr. Charles Dudley 
Warner's Washington Irving in the American Men of Letters 
Series is the best one-volume biography. Of the many briefer 
sketches it is impossible to select the best. Periodical indexes, 
such as are to be found in all libraries, reveal a great many 
critical and biographical essays. A sane estimate of Irving's 
place in literature is to be found in Professor C. F. Richardson's 
American Literature. The brief sketch above owes something 
to each of these sources. 

AN ESTIMATE OF IRVING 

It is pretty well agreed that 'the essential qualities of Irving's 
works are sentiment and humor. To these might be added an 
indefinable moral quality akin to that which is sometimes felt 
m the tone of certain voices. Finally, the charm of his writ- 
ings consists not so much in subject-matter as in graceful, me- 
lodious expression. He lacks the fire, the virility, of a great 
essayist ; the free imagination of a great romancer ; the broach 
knowledge and fine discrimination of a great historian. He is 
always entertaining, always worth reading. 

Irving's place in American literature is clearly defined. He 
is our first successful man of letters. He is the earliest of a 



xvi IRVING' S WORKS 

long line of short-story writers. If we except Franklin, he is 
our first prominent essayist. As an historian, he leads a re- 
markable group containing such names as Bancroft, Prescott, 
Motley, Parkman, and Palfrey ; behind him we find but the 
old annalists of Puritan days, and the later group of minor 
local historians of whom Belknap is a type. We may almost 
say that American prose, in the legitimate fields of literature, 
begins with Washington Irving. 

Perhaps it is profitless to conjecture what Irving would 
have produced had he been born in Boston instead of New 
York ; what effect poverty, or some grief less attractive than 
the loss of a first love, might have produced in his nature. 
Living in an era when sentiment often flattened into senti- 
mentality, and in a country where provincial smartness was 
sometimes a trifle noisy and boastful, he escaped glaring faults 
almost entirely. What would Irving produce if he were writing 
to-day? What would he have produced had he lived in the 
days of Addison and Steele ? 



IRVING'S WORKS 

1802. Jonathan Oldstyle Papers. 

Nine letters on drama and fashion in New York, exceedingly 
interesting in their glimpses of society in 1800. Published in 
the Morning Chronicle^ edited by his brother Peter. 

1807» Salmagundi. 

"A small pamphlet in neat yellow covers, " published at irreg- 
ular intervals for a year — twenty numbers in all. Written by 
Irving, his brother William, and James Kirk Paulding. Satir- 
ized New York in a manner similar to that of The Spectator^ 
after which it was patterned. 

1809. A History of New York^ by " Diedrich Knickerbocker.'- 
A comic history of the city under Dutch rule. This work 
established Irving's reputation as a humorist. 



IRVING' S WORKS xvii 

1819-1820. The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon^ Gent. 

Essays narrative and descriptive, touched with sentiment 
and Immor, with here and there a graceful tale. 

1822. Bracehridge Hall, by " Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." 

Similar to The Sketch-Book. The sketches are given unity 
by being grouped about a visit to an English country seat 
during the holidays. 

1824. Tales of a Traveller, by "Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." 

Stories picked up here and there during his travels, or half 
remembered from early reading. 

1828; The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus. 
Based upon Navarre'te's Voyages of Columbus. 

1829. Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada. 

An account of a ten years' war between the Spaniards and 
the Moors, resulting in the final capture of Granada, and the 
termination of Moorish dominion in Spain, which had pre- 
vailed over seven hundred years. 

1831. Voyages of the Companions of Columbus. 
Supplementary to the second work above. 

1832. The Alhambra. 

A Spanish sketch-book, giving an account of a three months' 
residence in the old Moorish palace. Legends and brief chap- 
ters of history mingle with the narrative and descriptive 
sketches. 

1835. A Tour of the Prairies. 

Published as Vol. I. of Crayon Miscellany. An account of a 
trip to the middle W;est, in company with a government com- 
mission. 

1835. Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey. 

Volume 11. of Crayon Miscellany. Account of visits to 
homes of Scott and Byron. 

1835. Legends of the Conquest of Spain. 

Volume III. of Crayon 3Iiscellany. Miscellaneous papers, 
supplementary to The Conquest of Granada. Tells of the 
downfall of the Goths in Spain, and the coming of the Moors. 



xviii SUGGESTIOXS FOR STUDY 

1836. Astoria. 

An account of John Jacob Astor's attempt to found a 
settlement at the mouth of the Cohimbia River. Compiled 
from documents furnished by Mr. Astor. 

1837. The Adventures of Captain Bonneville. 

Irving purchased from Captain Bonneville a manuscript 
account of his trapping expeditions bej'ond the Rockies, which 
he elaborated into an interesting volume of adventure. Like 
Astoria, it has no claim on originality, Irving's part being that 
of editor, and little more. 

1849. Life of Oliver Goldsmith. 

An excellent biography based upon a brief sketch written 
years before. Irving and Goldsmith had much in common. 

1849. Mahomet and His Successors. 

Tells of the rise and spread of Mohammedanism up to the 
invasion of Spain. Charles Kendall Adams says of this work, 
*' Like all of Irving's histories, it does much to compensate for 
any lack of profound research by the charm of an unusually 
attractive style." 

1855. Wolfert's Boost. 

Miscellaneous articles of little value, most of which had been 
published in the Knickerbocker Magazine. 

1855-1859. Life of George Washington. 

A popular, almost standard account, showing painstaking 
effort. It has the charm of all his writings, but is the labor of 
an essayist, not of a statesman or a close student of history. 



' SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 

Read The Alhambra aloud. Use a dictionary, and a good 
map of Spain. 

Study Irving's art and character. Where is he at his best 1 
What is the secret of his art? How does he differ from Haw- 
thorne and Stevenson 1 How does his character differ from 
ji^our own ? Edward Everett has said, " If any one wishes to 
study a style which possesses the characteristic beauties of Addi- 



PREFACE XIX 

sou, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, 
point, and spirit, let him give his days and nights to the vol- 
umes of Irving." Is this advice extravagant? 

Let The Alhanihra be a gateway through which you pass to 
other literary jourueyings. There are many pleasant paths 
leading through others of Irving's works; if you like this sketch 
book, try tlie others. Don Quixote, the masterpiece of Span- 
ish prose fiction, a humorous extravaganza at which all the 
world has laughed, is quite a different sort of journey. The 
Arabian Xiijhfs, a collection of stories related closely to the 
Moorish tales of the Alhambra, suggests another pleasant route. 
How does the Arabian tale difier from the Greek myth as 
retold by Hawtliorne, or from the German folk stories collected 
by the Grinun brothers? 

If the historical chapters in The Alhambra have interested 
you, read the entire account of the Moorish migration as given 
by Irving in Mahomet and His Successors, Legends of the Con- 
quest of Spain, and The Conquest of Granada. The Story of 
the Moors in Spain by Stanley Lane- Poole, and The Christian 
Recovery of Spain by Henry E. Watts are brief, popular works 
on this subject. Other chapters of Spanish history are equally 
interesting. Prescott's 7'he Conquest of Mexico and 7Vie Con- 
quest of Peru tell in an interesting manner of Spain's conquest 
in the New World. 

The best set of illustrations of the Alhambra is an^ expensive 
folio by Owen Jones. Nearly all recent editions of Irving's 
works contain a few good illustrations. Baedeker's Sjmin gives 
valuable information about the Granada of to-day. 

A. M. H. 



XX PREFACE 



PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION 

Rough (iraughts of some of the following tales ami essays 
were actually writteu during a residence in the Alhanibra ; 
others were subsequently added, founded on notes anil observa- 
tions made there. Care was taken to maintain local coloring 
and verisimilitude ; so that the whole might present a faithful 
and living picture of that microcosm, that singular little world 
into which I had been fortuitously thrown ; and about which 
the external world had a very imperfect idea. It was my en- 
deavor scrupulously to depict its half Spanish, half Oriental 
character; its mixture of tiie heroic, the poetic, and the gro- 
tesque ; to revive the traces of grace and beauty fast failing 
from its walls ; to record the regal and chivalrous traditions 
concerning those who once trod its courts, and the whimsical 
and superstitious legends of the motley race now burrowing 
among its ruins. 

The papers thus roughly sketched out lay for three or four 
years in my portfolio, until I found myself in London, in 1832, 
on the eve of returning to the United States. I then endeav- 
ored to arrange them for the press, but the preparations for 
departure did not allow sutticient leisure. Several were thrown 
aside as incomplete ; the rest were put together somewhat 
hastily and in rather a crude and chaotic manner. 

In the present edition I have revised and rearranged the 
whole work, enlarged some parts, and added others, including 
the papers originally omitted ; and have thus endeavored to 
render it more complete and more worthy of the indulgent 
reception with which it has been favored. 

*vV [. 

SUNNYSIDE. 185L 



THE ALHAMBRA 



THE JOURTTEY 

In the spring of 1829, the author of this work, whom curi- 
osity IkkI brought into Spain, made a rambHug cxj)0(lition 
from Seville to Cranada in company witli a friend, a iiKMubor 
of the Kussiun Embassy iit Madrid. Accident had thrown us 
together from distant regions of the globe and a similarity of 
taste led us to wander together among the romantic mountains 
of Andalusia. Siiould these pag(\^ meet his eye, wherever 
thrown by the duties of his station, whether mingling in the 
pageantry of courts, or meditating on the truer glories of 
nature, may they recall the scenes of our adventurous com- 
panionship, and with them the recollection of one, in whom 
neither time nor distance will obliterate the renuMnbrance of 
his gentleness and worth.* 

And here, before setting forth, let me indnlge in a few pre- 
vious remarks on Spanisli scenery and Spanish travelling. 
Many are apt to pi(^turc Spain to their imaginations as a soft 
southern region, decked out with the luxuriant charms of volup- 
tuons Italy. On the contrary, though there are exceptions in 
some of the maritime provinces, yet, for the greater part, it is 
a stern, melancholy country, with rugged mountains, and long 
fi'weeplng ))lains, <lestitute of trees, and indescribably silent and 
lonesome, j)artaking of the savage and solitary clunw^ter of 

H I 



2 THE ALHAMBRA 

Africa. What adds to this silence and loneliness, is the absence 
of singing-birds, a natural consequence of the want of groves 
and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are seen wheeling about 
the mountain-cliffs, and soaring over the plains, and groups of 
shy bustards stalk about the heaths ; but the myriads of 
smaller birds, which animate the wliole face of other countries, 
are met with in but few provinces in Spain, and in those 
chiefly among the orchards and gardens which surround the 
habitations of man. 

In the interior provinces the traveller occasionally traverses 
great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, 
waving at times with verdure, at other times naked and sun- 
burnt, but he looks round in vain for the hand that has tilled 
the soil. At length he perceives some village on a steep hill, 
or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined watch- 
tower : a stronghold, in old times, against civil war, or Moorish 
inroad ; for the custom among the peasantry of congregating 
together for mutual protection is still kept up in most parts 
of Spain, in consequence of the maraudings of roving freebooters. 

But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garni- 
ture of groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental 
cultivation, yet its scenery is noble in its severity and in unison 
with the attributes of its people ; and I think that I better 
understand the proud, hardy, frugal, and abstemious Spaniard, 
his manly defiance of hardships, and contempt of effeminate in- 
dulgences, since I have seen the country he inhabits. 

There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of the 
Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of sub- 
limity. The immense plains of the Castiles and of La Mancha, 
extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from 
their very nakedness and immensity, and possess, in some degree, 
the solemn grandeur of the ocean. In ranging over these boundless 
w^astes, the eye catches sight here and there of a straggling herd 
of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, motionless as a status 



THE JOURNEY 3 

with his long slender pike tapering up like a lance into the air; 
or beholds a long train of mules slowly moving along the waste 
like a ti-ain of camels in the desert ; or a single horseman, armed 
with blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the plain. 
Thus the country, the habits, the very looks of the people, have 
something of the Arabian character. The general insecurity of 
the country is evinced in the universal use of weapons. The 
herdsman in the field, the shepherd in the plain, has his musket 
and his knife. The wealthy villager rarely ventures to the 
market-town without his trabuco, and, perhaps, a servant on 
foot with a blunderbuss on .his shoulder ; and the most petty 
journey is undertaken with the preparation of a warlike enter- 
prise. 

The dangers of the road produce also a mode of travelling 
resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the East. 
The arrieros, or carriers, congregate in convoys, and set off in 
large and well-armed trains on appointed days ; while additional 
travellers swell their number, and contribute to their strength. 
In this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried 
on. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the 
legitimate traverser of the land, crossing the peninsula from the 
Pyrenees and the Asturias to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania de 
Ronda, and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally 
and hardily : his alforjas of coarse cloth hold his scanty stock of 
provisions ; a leathern bottle, hanging at his saddle-bow, con- 
tains wine or water, for a supply across barren mountains and 
thirsty plains ; a mule-cloth spread upon the ground is his bed 
at night, and his pack-saddle his pillow. His low, but clean- 
limbed and sinewy form betokens strength ; his complexion is 
dark and sunburnt; his eye resolute, but quiet in its expression, 
except when kindled by sudden emotion ; his demeanor is frank, 
manly, and courteous, and he never passes you without a grave 
salutation: '^ Dios guarde a usted I " '"'•Va usted con Dios, 
Caballero/ " ' ' God guard you ! " " God be with you, Cavalier ! " 



4 THE ALHAMBBA 

As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon 
the burden of their mules, they have their weapons at hand, 
slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched out for desper- 
ate defence; but their united numbers render them secure 
against petty bands of marauders, and the solitary bandolero, 
armed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian steed, 
hovers about them, like a pirate about a merchant convoy, 
without daring to assault. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs and 
ballads, with which to beguile his incessant wayfaring. The 
airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few inflections. 
These he chants forth with a loud voice, and long, drawling 
cadence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems to listen with 
infinite gravity, and to keep time, with his paces, to the tune. 
The couplets thus chanted are often old traditional romances 
about the Moors, or some legend of a saint, or some love-ditty ; 
or, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold con- 
trabandista, or hardy bandolero, for the smuggler and the robber 
are poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often, 
the song of the muleteer is composed at the instant, and relates 
to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This 
talent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is 
said to have been inherited from the Moors. There is some- 
thing wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the 
rude and lonely scenes they illustrate ; accompanied, as they 
are, by the occasional jingle of the mule-bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect also to meet a train of mule- 
teers in some mountain-pass. First you hear the bells of the 
leading mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillness 
of the airy height ; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer admon- 
ishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, at the full 
stretch of his lungs, some traditionary ballad. At length you 
see the mules slowly winding along the cragged defile, some- 
times descending precipitous cliflfs, so as to present themselves 



THE JOURNEY 5 

iQ full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up the deep arid 
chasms below you. As they approach, you descry their gay 
decorations of worsted stuffs, tassels, and saddle-cloths, while, 
as they pass by, the ever ready trabuco, slung behind the packs 
and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we were about 
to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous regions of Spain. 
Vast sierras, or chains of mountains, destitute of shrub or tree, 
and mottled with variegated marbles and granites, elevate their 
sunburnt summits against a deep-blue sky ; yet in their rugged 
bosoms lie ingulfed verdant and fertile valleys, where the 
desert and the garden strive for mastery, and the very rock is, 
as it were, compelled to yield the fig, the orange, and the citron, 
and to blossom with the myrtle and the rose. 

In the wild passes of these mountains the sight of walled 
towns and villages, built like eagles' nests among the cliffs, and 
surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of ruined watch-towers 
perched on lohy peaks, carries the mind back to the chivalric 
days of Christian and Moslem warfare, and to the romantic 
struggle for the conquest of Granada. In traversing these lofty 
sierras the traveller is often obliged to alight, and lead his horse up 
and down the steep and jagged ascents and descents, resembling the 
broken steps of a staircase. Sometimes the road winds along dizzy 
precipices, without parapet to guard him from the gulfs below, 
and then will plunge down steep and dark and dangerous decliv- 
ities. Sometimes it struggles through rugged barrancos, or 
ravines, worn by winter torrents, the obscure path of the con- 
trabandista ; while, ever and anon, the ominous cross, the mon- 
ument of robbery and murder, erected on a mound of stones at 
some lonely part of the road, admonishes the traveller that he 
is among the haunts of banditti, perhaps at that very moment 
under the eye of some lurking bandolero. Sometimes, in wind- 
ing through the narrow valleys, he is startled by a hoarse bel- 
lowing, and beholds above him on some green fold of the 



ft THE ALHAMBRA 

mountain a herd of fierce Andalusian bulls, destined for the 
nombat of the arena. I have felt, if I may so express it, an 
agreeable horror in thus contemplating, near at hand, these 
terrific animals, clothed with tremendous strength, and ranging 
their native pastures in untamed wildness, strangers almost to 
the face of man : they know no one but the solitary herdsman 
who attends upon them, and even he at times dares not venture 
to approach them. The low bellowing of these bulls, and their 
menacing aspect as they look down from their rocky height, give 
additional wildness to the savage scenery. 

I have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer disquisition 
than I intended on the general features of Spanish travelling ; 
but there is a romance about all the recollections of the Penin- 
sula dear to the imagination. 

As our proposed route to Granada Lay through mountainous 
regions, where the roads are little better than mule-paths, and 
said to be frequently beset by robbers, we took due travelling 
precautions. Forwarding the most valuable part of our luggage 
a day or two in advance by the arrieros, we retained merely 
clothing and necessaries for the journey and money for the 
expenses of the road ; with a little surplus of hard dollars by 
way of robber purse, to satisfy the gentlemen of the road should 
we be assailed. Unlucky is the too wary traveller who, having 
grudged this precaution, falls into their clutches empty-handed ; 
they are apt to give him a sound rib-roasting for cheating them 
out of their dues. ," Caballeros like them cannot afford to scour 
the roads and risk the gallows for nothing." 

A couple of stout steeds were provided for our own mount- 
ing, and a third for our scanty luggage and the conveyance of 
a sturdy Biscayan lad, about twenty years of age, who was to 
be our guide, our groom, our valet, and at all times our guard. 
For the latter office he was provided with a formidable trabuco 
or carbine, with which he promised to defend us against rateros 
or solitary foot-pads ; but as to powerful bands, like that of 



THE JOURNEY 7 

the "Sons of Ecija," he confessed they were quite beyond hia 
prowess. He made much vainglorious boast about his weapon 
at the outset of the journey; though, to the discredit of his 
generalship, it was suffered to hang unloaded behind his saddle. 
According to our stipulations, the man from whom we hired 
the horses was to be at the expense of their feed and stabling 
on the journey, as well as of the maintenance of our Biscayan 
squire, who of course was provided with funds for the purpose ; 
we took care, however, to give the latter a private hint, that' 
though we made a close bargain with his master, it was all in 
his favor, as, if he proved a good man and true, both he and the 
horses should live at our cost, and the money provided for their 
maintenance remain in his pocket. This unexpected largess, 
with the occasional present of a cigar, won his heart completely! 
He was, in truth, a faithful, cheery, kind-hearted creature, as 
full of saws and proverbs as that miracle of squires, the renowned 
Sancho himself, whose name, by the by, we bestowed upon him, 
and, like a true Spaniard, though treated by us with compan- 
ionable familiarity, he never for a moment, in his utmost hilar- 
ity, overstepped the bounds of respectful decorum. 

Such were our minor preparations for the journey, but above 
all we laid in an ample stock of good-humor, and a genuine dis- 
position to be pleased; determining to travel in true contraban- 
dista style ; taking things as we found them, rough or smooth, 
and mingling with all classes and conditions in a kind of vaga- 
bond companionship. It is the true way to travel in Spain. 
With such disposition and determination, what a country is it 
for a traveller, where the most miserable inn is as full of adven- 
ture as an enchanted Castle, and every meal is in itself an 
achievement ! Let others repine at the lack of turnpike roads 
and sumptuous hotels, and all the elaborate comforts of a coun- 
try cultivated and civilized into tameness and commonplace; 
but give me the rude mountain scramble ; the roving, hap-hazard 
wayfaring; the half wild, yet frank and hospitable manners 



8 THE ALHAMBRA 

which impart such a true game-flavor to deax old romantie 

Spain ! 

Tims equipped and attended, we cantered out of " Fair Seville 
city " at half-past six in the morning of a bright May day, in 
company with a lady and gentleman of our acquaintance, who 
rode a few miles with us, in the Spanish mode of taking leave. 
Our route lay through old Alcala de Guadaira (Alcala on the 
river Aira), the benefactress of Seville, that s^upplies it with 
bread and water. Here live the bakers who furnish Seville with 
that delicious bread for which it is renowned ; here are fabricated 
those roscas well known by the well-merited appellation of pan 
de Dios (bread of God) ; with which, by the way, we ordered our 
man, Sancho, to stock his alforjas for the journey. Well has 
this beneficent little city been denominated the " Oven of 
Seville"; well has it been called Alcala de los Panaderos (Alcala 
of the bakers), for a great part of its inhabitants are of that 
handicraft, and the highway hence to Seville is constantly 
traversed by lines of mules and donkeys laden with great pan- 
niers of loaves and roscas. 

I have said Alcala supplies Seville with water. Here are 
great tanks or reservoirs, of Roman and Moorish construction, 
whence water is conveyed to Seville by noble aqueducts. The 
springs of Alcala are almost as much vaunted as its ovens ; and 
to the lightness, sweetness, and purity of its water is attributed 
in some measure the delicacy of its bread. 

Here we halted for a time, at the ruins of the old Moorish 
castle, a favorite resort for picnic parties from Seville, where we 
had passed many a pleasant hour. The walls are of great ex- 
tent, pierced with loopholes ; enclosing a huge square tower or 
keep, with the remains of masmoras, or subterranean granaries. 
The Guadaira winds its stream round the hill, at the foot of 
these ruins, whimpering among reeds, rushes, and pond-lilies, 
and overhung with rhododendron, eglantine, yellow myrtle, and 
a profusion of wild flowers and aromatic shrubs ; while along 



THE JOURNEl 9 

its banks are groves of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates, among 
which we heard the early note of the nightingale. 

A picturesque bridge was thrown across the little river, at 
one end of which was the ancient Moorish mill of the castle, de- 
fended by a tower of yellow stone; a fisherman's net hung 
against the wall to dry, and hard by in the river was his boat ; 
a group of peasant women in bright-colored dresses, crossing the 
arched bridge, were reflected in the placid stream. Altogether 
it was an admirable scene for a landscape-painter. 

The old Moorish mills, so often found on secluded streams, are 
characteristic objects in Spanish landscape, and suggestive of 
the perilous times of old. They are of stone, and often in the 
form of towers with loopholes and battlements, capable of de- 
fence in those warlike days when the country on both sides of 
the border was subject to sudden inroad and hasty ravage, and 
when men had to labor with their weapons at hand, and some 
place of temporary refuge. 

Our next halting-place was at Gandul, where were the re- 
mains of another Moorish castle, with its ruined tower, a nest- 
ling-place for storks, and commanding a view over a vast campina 
or fertile plain, with the mountains of Eonda in the distance. 
These castles were strongholds to protect the plains from the 
talas or forays to which they were subject, when the fields of 
corn would be laid waste, the flocks and herds swept from the 
rast pastures, and, together with captive peasantry, hurried off 
in long cavalgadas across the borders. 

At Gandul we found a tolerable posada ; the good folks could 
not tell us what time of day it was, the clock only struck once 
in the day, two hours after noon ; until that time it was guess- 
work. Wegu:ssed it was full time to eat; so, alighting, we 
ordered a repast. While that was in preparation, we visited 
the palace once the residence of the Marquis of Gandul. All 
was gone to decay ; l,here were but two or three rooms habita- 
ble, and very poorly furnished. Yet here were the remains of 



10 THE ALHAMBRA 

grandeur : a terrace, where fair dames and gentle cavaliers may 
once have walked ; a fish-pond and ruined garden, with grape- 
vines and date-bearing palm-trees. Here we were joined by a 
fat curate, who gathered a bouquet of roses, and presented it, 
very gallantly, to the lady who accompanied us. 

Below the palace was the mill, with orange-trees and aloes in 
front, and a pretty stream of pure water. We took a seat in 
the shade ; and the millers, all leaving their work, sat down and 
smoked with us ; for the Andalusians are always ready for a 
gossip. They were waiting for the regular visit of the barber, 
who came once a week to put all their chins in order. He 
arrived shortly afterwards : a lad of seventeen, mounted on a 
donkey, eager to display his new alforjas or saddle-bags, just 
bought at a fair ; price one dollar, to be paid on St. John's day 
(in June), by which time he trusted to have mown beards enough- 
"^ to put him in funds. 

By the time the laconic clock of the castle had struck two we 
had finished our dinner. So, taking leave of our Seville friends, 
and leaving the millers still under the hands of the barber, we 
set off on our ride across the campina. It was one of those 
vast plains, common in Spain, where for miles and miles there 
is neither house nor tree. Unlucky the traveller who has to 
traverse it, exposed as we were to heavy and repeated showers 
of rain. There is no escape nor shelter. Our only protection 
was our Spanish cloaks, which nearly covered man and horse, 
but grew heavier every mile. By the time we had lived through 
one shower we would see another slowly but inevitably approach- 
ing ; fortunately in the interval there would be an outbreak of 
bright, warm, Andalusian sunshine, which would make our 
cloaks send up wreaths of steam, but which partially dried 
them before the next drenching. 

Shortly after sunset we arrived at Arahal, a little town among 
the hills. We found it in a bustle with a party of miquelets, 
mho were patrolling the country to ferret out robbers. The 



THE JOURNEY H 

appearance of foreigners like ourselves was an unusual circum- 
stance in an interior country town ; and little Spanish towns of 
the kind are easily put in a state of gossip and wonderment by 
such an occurrence. Mine host, with two or three old wiseacre 
comrades in brown cloaks, studied our passports in a corner of 
the posada, while an Alguazil took notes by the dim light of a 
lamp. The passports were in foreign languages and perplexed 
them, but our Squire Sancho assisted them in their studies, and 
magnified our importance with the grandiloquence of a Spaniard. 
In the meantime the magnificent distribution of a few cigars 
had won the hearts of all around us ; in a little while the whole 
community seemed put in agitation to make us welcome. The 
corregidor himself waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed 
arm-chair was ostentatiously bolstered into our room by our 
landlady, for the accommodation of that important personage. 
The commander of the patrol took supper with us : a lively, 
talking, laughing Andaluz, who had made a campaign in South 
America, and recounted his exploits in love and war with much 
pomp of phrase, vehemence of gesticulation, and mysterious 
rolhng of the eye. He told us that he had a list of all the 
robbers in the country, and meant to ferret out every mother's 
son of them ; he offered us at the same time some of his soldiers 
as an escort. " One is enough to protect you, senors ; the rob- 
bers know me, and know my men ; the sight of one is enough 
to spread terror through a whole sierra." We thanked him for 
his offer, but assured him, in his own strain, that with the pro- 
tection of our redoubtable squire, Sancho, we were not afraid of 
all the ladrones of Andalusia. 

While we were supping with our drawcansir friend, we 
heard the notes of a guitar, and the click of castanets, and 
presently a chorus of voices singing a popular air. In fact, 
mine host had gathered together the amateur singers and musi- 
cians, and the rustic belles of the neighborhood, and, on going 
forth, the court-yard or patio of the inn presented a scene of 



12 THE ALHAMBRA 

true Spanish festivity. We took our seats with mine host and 
hostess and the commander of the patrol, under an archway 
opening into the court ; the guitar passed from hand to hand, 
but a jovial shoemaker was the Orpheus of the place. He was 
a pleasant looking fellow, with huge black whiskers ; his sleeves 
were rolled up to his elbows. He touched the guitar with 
masterly skill, and sang a little amorous ditty with an expres- 
sive leer at the women, with whom he was evidently a favorite. 
He afterwards danced a fimdango with a buxom Andalusian 
damsel, to the great delight of the spectators. But none of the 
females present could compare with mine host's pretty daughter, 
Pepita, who had slipped away and made her toilette for the 
occasion, and had covered her head with roses ; and who dis- 
tinguished herself in a bolero with a handsome young dragoon. 
We ordered our host to let wine and refreshment circulate 
freely among the company, yet, though there was a motley 
assembly of soldiers, muleteers, and villagers, no one exceeded 
the bounds of sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for a 
painter : the picturesque group of dancers, the troopers in their 
half military dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown 
cloaks ; nor must I omit to mention the old meagre Alguazil, 
in a short black cloak, who took no notice of anything going 
on, but sat in a corner diligently writing by the dim light of 
a huge copper lamp, that might have figured in the days of 
Don Quixote. 

The following morning was bright and balmy, as a May 
morning ought to be, according to the poets. Leaving Arahal 
at seven o'clock, with all the posada at the door to cheer us off, 
we pursued our way through a fertile country, covered with 
grain and beautifully verdant ; but which in summer, when the 
harvest is over and the fields parched and brown, must be 
monotonous and lonely ; for, as in our ride of yesterday, there 
were neither houses nor people to be seen. The latter all 
congregate in villages and strongholds among the hills, as 



THE JOURNEY 13 

it these fertile plains were still subject to the ravages of the 
Moor. 

At noon we came to where there was a group of trees, 
beside a brook in a rich meadow. Here we alighted to make 
our mid-day meal. It was really a luxurious spot, among wild 
flowers and aromatic herbs, Avith birds singing around us. 
Knowing the scanty larders of Spanish inns, and the houseless 
tracts we might have to traverse, we had taken care to have 
the alforjas of our squii'e well stocked with cold provisions, and 
his bota, or leathern bottle, which might hold a gallon, filled to 
the neck with choice Valdepenas wine.^ As we depended more 
upon these for our well-being than even his trabuco, we ex- 
horted him to be more attentive in keeping them well charged ; 
and I must do him the justice to say that his namesake, the 
trencher-loving Sancho Panza, was never a more provident 
purveyor. Tliough the alforjas and the bota were frequently 
and vigorously assailed throughout the journey, they had 
a wonderful power of repletion, our vigilant squire sacking 
everything that remained from our repasts at the inns, to 
suppy these junketings by the road-side, which were his 
delight. 

On the present occasion he spread quite a sumptuous variety 
of remnants on the greensward before us, graced with an excel- 
lent ham brought from Seville ; then, taking his seat at a little 
distance, he solaced himself with what remained in the alforjas. 
A visit or two to the bota made him as merry and chirruping 
as a grasshopper filled with dew. On my comparing his con- 
tents of the alforjas to Sancho's skimming of the flesh-pots at 
the wedding of Cammacho, I found he was well versed in the 
history of Don Quixote, but, hke many of the common people 
of Spain, firmly believed it to be a true history. 

" All that happened a long time ago, senor," said he, with 
an inquiring look. 

"A very long time," I replied. 



14 THE ALHAMBRA 

"I dare say more thau a thousand years," — still looking 
dubiously. 

" I dare say not less," 

The squire was satisfied. Nothing pleased the simple-hearted 
varlet more than my comparing him to the renowned Sancho 
for devotion to the trencher ; and he called himself by no other 
name throughout the journey. 

Our repast being finished, we spread our cloaks on the green- 
sward under the tree, and took a luxurious siesta, in the Sj^an- 
ish fashion. The clouding up of the weather, however, warned 
us to depart, and a harsh wind sprang up from the southeast. 
Toward five o'clock we arrived at Osuua, a town of fifteen thou- 
sand inhabitants, situated on the side of a hill, with a church 
and a ruined castle. The posada was outside of the walls ; it had 
a cheerless look. The evening being cold, the inhabitants were, 
crowded round a brasero in a chimney-corner ; and the hostess 
was a dry old woman, who looked like a mummy. Every one 
eyed us askance as we entered, as Spaniards are apt to regard 
strangers ; a cheery, respectful salutation on our part, caballero- 
ing them and touching our sombreros, set Spanish pride at ease ; 
and when we took our seat among them, lit our cigars, and 
passed the cigar box round among them, our victory was com- 
plete. I have never known a Spaniard, whatever his rank or 
condition, who would suffer himself to be outdone in courtesy ; 
and to the common Spaniard the present of a cigar (puro) is 
irresistible. Care, however, must be taken never to offer him 
a present with an air of superiority and condescension ; he is too 
much of a caballero to receive favors at the cost of his dignity. 

Leaving Osuna at an early hour the next morning, we entered 
the sierra or range of mountains. The road wound through 
picturesque scenery, but lonely ; and a cross here and there by 
the roadside, the sign of a murder, showed that we were now 
coming among the "robber haunts." This wild and intricate 
country, with its silent plains and valleys intersected by moun- 



THE JOURNEY 15 

tains, has ever been famous for banditti. It was here that 
Omar Ibn Hassan, a robber-chief among the Moslems, held 
ruthless sway in the ninth century, disputing dominion even 
with the caliphs of Cordova. This too was a part of the re- 
gions so often ravaged during the reign of Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella by Ali Atar, the old Moorish alcayde of Loxa, father-in-law 
of Boabdil, so that it was called Ali Atar's garden, and here 
" Jose Maria," famous in Spanish brigand story, had his favorite 
lurking-places. 

In the course of the day we passed through Fuente la Piedra, 
near a little salt lake of the same name, a beautiful sheet of 
water, reflecting like a mirror the distant mountains. We now 
came in sight of Antiquera, that old city of warlike reputation, 
lying in the lap of the great sierra, which runs through Anda- 
lusia. A noble vega spread out before it, a picture of mild 
fertility set in a frame of rocky mountains. Crossing a gentle 
river we approached the city between hedges and gardens, in 
which nightingales were pouring forth their evening song. 
About nightfall we arrived at the gates. Everything in this 
venerable city has a decidedly Spanish stamp. It lies too much 
out of the frequented track of foreign travel to have its old 
usages trampled out. Here I observed old men still wearing 
the montero, or ancient hunting-cap, once common throughout 
Spain ; while the young men wore the little round-crowned hat, 
with brim turned up all round, like a cup turned down in its 
saucer; while the brim was set off with little black tufts like 
cockades. The women, too, were all in mantillas and basquinas. 
The fashions of Paris had not reached Antiquera. 

Pursuing our course through a spacious street, we put up at 
the posada of San Fernando. As Antiquera, though a consider- 
able city, is, as I observed, somewhat out of the track of travel, 
I had anticipated bad quarters and poor fare at the inn. I was 
agreeably disappointed, therefore, by a supper-table amply sup- 
plied, and what were still more acceptable, good clean rooms and 



16 THE ALHAMBRA 

comfortable beds. Our man Sancho felt himself as well off aa 
nis namesake when he had the run of the duke's kitchen, and 
let me know, as I retired for the night, that it had been a proud 
time for the alforjas. 

Early in the morning (May 4th) I strolled to the ruins of the 
old Moorish castle, which itself had been reared on the ruins of 
a Roman fortress. Here, taking my seat on the remains of a 
crumbling tower, I enjoyed a grand and varied landscape, beau- 
tiful in itself, and full of storied and romantic associations ; for 
I was now in the very heart of the country famous for the chiv- 
alrous contests between Moor and Christian. Below me, in its 
lap of hills, lay the old warrior city so often mentioned in chroni- 
cle and ballad. Out of yon gate and down yon hill paraded the 
band of Spanish cavaliers, of highest rank and bravest bearing, 
to make that foray during the war and conquest of Granadii, 
which ended in the lamentable massacre among the mountains 
of Malaga, and laid all Andalusia in mourning. Beyond spread 
out the vega, covered with gardens and orchards and fields of 
grain and enamelled meadows, inferior only to the famous vega 
of Granada. To the right the Rock of the Lovers stretched 
like a cragged promontory into the plain, whence the daugh- 
ter of the Moorish alcayde and her lover, when closely pursued, 
threw themselves in despair. 

The matin peal from church and convent below me rang 
sweetly in the morning air, as I descended. The market-place 
was beginning to throng with the populace, who traffic in the 
abundant produce of the vega ; for this is the mart of an agri- 
cultural region. In the market-place were abundance of freshly 
plucked roses for sale ; for not a dame or damsel of Andalusia 
thinks her gala dress complete without a rose shining like a 
gem among her raven tresses. » 

On returning to the inn I found our man Sancho in high 
gossip with the landlord and two or three of his hangers-on. 
He had just been telling some marvellous story about Seville, 



THE JOURNEY 17 

wnu'li mine host seemed piqued to mateli with one equally mar- 
vellous about Antiquera. There was onoc a fountain, he said, 
in one of the public squares, called II fuente del toro (the foun- 
tain of the bull), because the water gushed from the moutli of 
a bull's head, carved of stone. Underneath the head was in- 
scribed, — ■ 

En frente del toro 

Se lialleu tesoro. 

(In front of the bull there is treasure.) Many digged in front 
of the fountain, but lost their labor and found no money. At 
last one knowing fellow construed the motto a different way. 
It is in the forehead (frente) of the bull that the treasure is to 
be found, said he to himself, and I am tlie man to find it. 
Accordingly he came, late at night, with a mallet, and knocked 
the head to pieces ; and what do you think he found ? 

" Plenty of gold and diamonds ! " cried Sancho, eagerly. 

"He found nothing," rejoined mine liost, dryly, "and he 
ruined the fountain." 

Here a great laugh was set up by the landlord's hangers-on ; 
who considered Sancho completely taken in by what I presume 
was one of mine host's standing jokes. 

Leaving Antiquera at eight o'clock, we had a delightful ride 
along the little river, and by gardens and orchards fragrant with 
the odors of spring and vocal with the niglitingale. Our road 
passed round the Rock of the Lovers (el 2)eno)i de los enamora- 
dos), which rose in a precipice above us. In the course of the 
morning we passed through Archidona, situated in the breast 
of a high hill, with a three-pointed mountain towering above it, 
and the ruins of a Moorisli fortress. It was a great toil to 
ascend a steep stony street leading up into the city, altliough it 
bore the encouraging name of Calle Real del Llano (the royal 
street of the plain), but it was still a greater toil to descend 
from this mountain city on the other side. 

At noon we halted in sight of Archidona, in a pleasant little 



18 THE ALHAMBRA 

meadow among hills covered with olive-trees. Our cloaks were 
spread on the grass, under an elm by the side of a bubbling 
rivulet ; our horses were tethered where they might crop the 
herbage, and Sancho was told to produce his alforjas. He had 
been unusually silent this morning ever since the laugh raised at 
his expense, but now his countenance brightened, and he pro- 
duced his alforjas with an air of triumph. They contained the 
contribution of four days' journeying, but had been signally en- 
riched by the foraging of the previous evening in the plenteous 
inn at Antiquera ; and this seemed to furnish him with a set-ofl' 
to the banter of mine host. 

En f rente del toro 
Se hallen tesoro 

would he exclaim, with a chuckling laugh, as he drew forth the 
heterogeneous contents one by one, in a series which seemed to 
have no end. First came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very 
little the worse for wear ; then an entire partridge ; then a great 
morsel of salted codfish wrapped in paper ; then the residue of 
a ham ; then the half of a pullet, together with several rolls of 
bread, and a rabble rout of oranges, figs, raisins, and walnuts. 
His bota also had been recruited with some excellent wine of 
Malaga. At every fresh apparition from his larder, he would en- 
joy our ludicrous surprise, throwing himself back on the grass, 
shouting with laughter, and exclaiming, '^^Frente del toro ! f rente 
del toro! Ah, seiiors, they thought Sancho a simpleton at 
Antiquera; but Sancho knew where to find the te^oroT 

While we were diverting ourselves with his simple drollery, 
a solitary beggar approached, who had almost the look of a 
pilgrim. He had a venerable gray beard, and was evidently 
very old, supporting himself on a staff, yet age had not bowed 
him down ; he was tall and erect, and had the wreck of a fine 
form. He wore a round Andalusian hat, a sheepskin jacket, 
and leathern breeches, gaiters, and sandals. His dress, though 



THE JOURNEY 19 

old and patched, was decent, his demeanor manly, and he ad- 
dressed us with the grave courtesy that is to be remarked in 
the lowest Spaniard. We were in a favorable mood for such a 
visitor j and in a freak of capricious charity gave him some 
silver, a loaf of fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice 
wine of Malaga. He received them thankfully, but without 
any grovelling tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held 
it up to the light, with a slight beam of surprise in his eye ; 
then quaffing it off at a draught, "It is many years," said he, 
"since I have tasted such wine. It is a cordial to an old man's 
heart." Then, looking at the beautiful wheaten loaf, " hendito 
sea tal panr^ (blessed be such bread!) So saying, he put it 
in his wallet. We urged him to eat it on the spot. " No, 
seriors," replied he, "the wine I had either to drink or leave; 
but the bread I may take home to share with my family." 

Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission there, 
gave the old man some of the ample fragments of our repast, on 
condition, however, that he should sit down and make a meal. 

He accordingly took his seat at some little distance from us, 
and began to eat slowly, and with a sobriety and decorum that 
would have become a hidalgo. There was altogether a meas- 
ured manner and a quiet self-possession about the old man, that 
made me think that he had seen better days : his language, too, 
though simple, had occasionally something picturesque and 
almost poetical in the phraseology. I set him down for some 
broken-down cavalier. I was mistaken ; it was nothing but 
the innate courtesy of a Spaniard, and the poetical turn of 
thought and language often to be found in the lowest classes 
of this clear-witted people. For fifty years, he told us, he had 
been a shepherd, but now he was out of employ and destitute. 
''When I was a young man," said he, "nothing could harm oi 
trouble me ; I was always well, always gay ; but now I am 
seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, and my heart begins tc 
fail me " 



20 THE ALHAMBRA 

Still he was not a regular mendicant : it was not until 
recently that want had driven him to this degradation ; and 
he gave a touching picture of the struggle between hunger and 
pride, when abject destitution first came upon him. He was 
returning from Malaga without money ; he had not tasted food 
for some time, and was crossing one of the great plains of Spain, 
where there were but few habitations. When almost dead 
with hunger, he applied at the door of a venta or country inn. 
" Perdoii listed por Dios hermano I " (Excuse us, brother, for 
God's sake !) was the reply — the usual mode in Spain of refus- 
ing a beggar. "I turned away," said he, "with shame greater 
than my hunger, for my heart was yet too proud. I came to a 
river with high banks, and deep, rapid current, and felt tempted 
to throw myself in : ' AVhat should such an old, worthless, 
wretched man as I live for?' But when I was on the brink 
of the current, I thought on the blessed Virgin, and turned 
away. I travelled on until I saw a country-seat at a little dis- 
tance from the road, and entered the outer gate of the court- 
yard. The door was shut, but there were two young seiioras 
at a window. I approached and begged ; — ' Perdon usted por 
Dios hermano!^ — and the window closed. I crept out of 
tlie courtyard, but hunger overcame me, and my heart gave 
way : I thought my hour at hand, so I laid myself down at the 
gate, commended myself to the Holy Virgin, and covered my 
head to die. In a little while afterwards the master of the 
house came home : seeing me lying at his gate, he uncovered 
my head, had pity on my gray hairs, took me into his house, 
and gave me food. So, senors, you see that one should always 
put confidence in the protection of the Virgin." 

Tha old man was on his way to his native place, Archidona, 
which was in full view on its steep and rugged mountain. He 
pointed to the ruins of its castle. " That castle," he said, 
'* was inhabited by a Moorish king at the time of the wars of 
Granada. Queen Isabella invaded it with a great army ; but 



THE JOURNEY 21 

the king looked down from his castle among the clouds, and 
laughed her to scorn ! Upon this the Virgin appeared to the 
queen, and guided her and her army up a mysterious patli in 
the mountains, which had never before been known. When 
the Moor saw her coming, he was astonished, and springing 
with his horse from a precipice, was daslied to pieces ! The 
marks of his horse's hoofs," said the old man, " are to be seen 
in the margin of the rock to this day. And see, sefiors, yonder 
is the road by which the queen and her army mounted : you see 
it like a ribbon up the mountain's side ; but the miracle is, 
that, though it can be seen at a distance, when you come near 
it disappears ! " 

The ideal road to which he pointed was undoubtedly a sandy 
ravine of the mountain, which looked narrow and defined at a 
distance, but became broad and indistinct on an approach. 

As the old man's heart warmed with wine and wassail, he 
went on to tell us a story of the buried treasure left under the 
castle by the Moorish king. His own house was next to the 
foundations of the castle. The curate and notary dreamed 
three times of the treasure, and went to work at the place 
pointed out in their dreams. His own son-in-law heard the 
sound of their pickaxes and spades at night. What they found, 
nobody knows ; they became suddenly rich, but kept their own 
secret. Thus the old man had once been next door to fortune, 
but was doomed never to get under the same roof 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by the 
Moors, so popular throughout Spain, are most current among 
tlie poorest people. Kind nature consoles with shadows for 
the lack of substantials. The thirsty man dreams of fountains 
and running streams ; the hungry man of banquets ; and the 
poor man of heaps of hidden gold : nothing certainly is more 
opulent than the imagination of a beggar. 

Our afternoon's ride took us through a steep and rugged 
defile of the mountains, called Puerte del Rey, the Pass of the 



22 THE ALHAMBRA 

King; being one of the great passes into the territories of 
Granada, and the one by which King Ferdinand conducted his 
army. Towards sunset the road, winding round a hill, brought 
us in sight of the famous little frontier city of Loxa, which 
repulsed Ferdinand from its walls. Its Arabic name implies 
guardian, and such it was to the vega of Granada, being one 
of its advanced guards. It was the stronghold of that fiery 
veteran, old Ali Atar, father-in-law of Boabdil; and here it 
was that the latter collected his troops, and sallied forth on 
that disastrous foray which ended in the death of the old al- 
cayde and his own captivity. From its commanding position 
at the gate, as it were, of this mountain-pass, Loxa has not 
unaptly been termed the key of Granada. It is wildly pic- 
turesque ; built along the face of an arid mountain. The 
ruins of a Moorish alcazar or citadel crown a rocky mound 
which rises out of the centre of the town. The river Xenil 
washes its base, winding among rocks, and groves, and gardens, 
and meadows, and crossed by a Moorish bridge. Above the 
city all is savage and sterile, below is the richest vegetation 
and the freshest verdure. A similar contrast is presented by 
the river : above the bridge it is placid and grassy, reflecting 
groves and gardens ; below it is rapid, noisy, and tumultuous. 
The Sierra Nevada, the royal mountains of Granada, crowned 
with perpetual snow, form the distant boundary to this varied 
landscape, one of the most characteristic of romantic Spain. 

Alighting at the entrance of the city, we gave our horses to 
Sancho to lead them to the inn, while we strolled about to en- 
joy the singular beauty of the environs. As we crossed tlie 
bridge to a fine alameda, or public walk, the bells tolled the 
hour of orison. At the sound the wayfarers, whether on busi- 
ness or pleasure, paused, took off their hats, crossed themselves, 
and repeated their evening prayer : a pious custom still rigidly 
observed in retired parts of Spain. Altogether it was a solemn 
and beautiful evening scene, and we wandered on as the even- 



THE JOURNEY 23 

ing gradually closed, and the new moon began to glitter be- 
tween the high elms of the alameda. We were roused from 
this quiet state of enjoyment by the voice of our trusty squire 
hailing us from a distance. He came up to us, out of breath. 
**^A, sehores,^^ cried he, " el pohre Sancho no es nada sin Don 
Quixote^ (Ah, senors, , poor Sancho is nothing without Don 
Quixote.) He had been alarmed at our not coming to the 
inn ; Loxa was such a wild mountain place, full of contraban- 
distas, enchanters, and infiernos; he did not well know what 
might have happened, and set out to seek us, inquiring after 
us of every person he met, until he traced us across the bridge, 
and, to his great joy, caught sight of us strolling in the alameda. 

The inn to which he conducted us was called the Corona, 
or Crown, and we found it quite in keeping with the character 
of the place, the inhabitants of which seem still to retain the 
bold, fiery spirit of the olden time. The hostess was a young 
and handsome Andalusian widow, whose trim basquiiia of black 
silk, fringed with bugles, set off the play of a graceful form and 
round pliant limbs. Her step was firm and elastic ; her dark 
eye was full of fire ; and the coquetry of her air, and varied 
ornaments of her person, showed that she was accustomed to be 
admired. 

She was well matched by a brother, nearly about her own 
age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian Majo and 
Maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well-formed, with a clear 
olive complexion, a dark beaming eye, and curling chestnut 
whiskers that met under his chin. He was gallantly dressed 
in a short green velvet jacket, fitted to his shape, pro- 
fusely decorated with silver buttons, with a white handkerchief 
in each pocket. He had breeches of the same, with rows of 
buttons from the hips to the knees ; a pink silk handkerchief 
round his neck, gathered through a ring, on the bosom of a 
neatly plaited shirt ; a sash round the waist to match ; bottinas, 
or spatterdashes, of the finest russet leather, elegantly worked. 



24 THE ALHAMBRA 

and open at the calf to show his stocking ; and russet shoes, 
setting off a well-shaped foot. 

As he was standing at the door, a horseman rode up and 
entered into low and earnest conversation with him. He was 
dressed in a similar style, and almost with equal finery ; a man 
about thirty, square-built, with strong Roman features, hand- 
some, though slightly pitted with the small-pox; with a free, 
bold, and somewhat daring air. His powerful black horse was 
decorated with tassels and fanciful trappings, and a couple 
of broad-mouthed blunderbusses hung behind the saddle. He 
had the air of one of those contrabandistas I have seen in the 
mountains of,Ronda, and evidently had a good understanding 
with the brother of mine hostess; nay, if I mistake not, he was 
a favored admirer of the widow. In fact, the whole inn and its 
inmates had something of a contrabandista aspect, and a blun- 
derbuss stood in a corner beside the guitar. The horseman 
I have mentioned passed his evening in the posada, and sang 
several bold mountain romances with great spirit. As we were 
at supper, two poor Asturians put in, in distress, begging food 
and a night's lodging. They had been waylaid by robbers as 
they came from a fair among the mountains, robbed of a horse 
which carried all their stock in trade, stripped of their money, 
and most of their apparel, beaten for having offered resistance, 
and left almost naked in the road. My companion, with a 
prompt generosity natural to him, ordered them a supper and 
a bed, and gave them a sum of money to help them forward 
towards their home. 

As the evening advanced, the dramatis personce thickened. 
A large man, about sixty years of age, of powerful frame, came 
strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. He was dressed in 
the ordinary Andalusiau costume, but had a huge sabre tucked 
under his arm ; wore large mustaches, and had something 
of a lofty swaggering air. Every one seemed to regard him 
with great deference. 



THE JOURNEY 25 

Our man Sancbo whispered to us that he was Don Ventura 
Rodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, famous for his prow- 
ess and the strength of his arm. In the time of the Freneh 
invasion he surprised six troopers who were asleep ; he first 
secured their horses, then attacked them with his sabre, killed 
some, and took the rest prisoners. For this exploit the king 
allows him a peseta (the fifth of a duro, or dollar) per day, and 
has dignified him with the title of Don. 

I was amused to behold his swelling language and demeanor. 
He was evidently a thorough Andalusian, boastful as brave. 
His sabre was always in his hand or under his arm. He 
carries it always about with him as a child does its doll, calls it 
his Santa Teresa, and says, "When I draw it, the earth 
trembles " {tiemhla la tierra). 

I sat until a late hour listening to the varied themes of this 
motley group, who mingled together with the unreserve of a 
Spanish posada. We had contrabandista songs, stories of 
robbers, guerrilla exploits, and Moorish legends. The last were 
from our handsome landlady, who gave a poetical account of the 
Infiernos, or infernal regions of Loxa, — dark caverns, in which 
subterranean streams and waterfalls make a mysterious sound. 
The common people say that there are money-coiners shut up 
there from the time of the Moors ; and that the Moorish kings 
kept their treasures in those caverns. 

I retired to bed with my imagination excited by all that 
I had seen and heard in this old warrior city. Scarce had I 
fallen asleep when I was aroused by a horrid din and uproar, 
that might have confounded the hero of La Mancha himself, 
whose experience of Spanish inns Avas a continual uproar. It 
seemed for a moment as if the Moors were once more breaking 
into the town ; or the infiernos of which mine hostess talked had 
broken loose. I sallied forth, half dressed, to reconnoitre. It 
was nothing more nor less than a charivari to celebrate the 
nuptials of an old man with a buxom damsel. Wishing him 



26 THE ALHAMBRA 

joy of his bride and his serenade, I returned to my more quiet 
bed, and slept soundly until morning. 

While dressing, I amused myself in reconnoitring the populace 
from my window. There were groups of fine-looking young 
men in the trim, ftinciful Andaliisian costume, with brown 
cloaks, thrown about them in true Spanish style, which cannot 
be imitated, and little round majo hats stuck on with a peculiar 
Knowing air. They had the same galliard look which I have 
remarked among the dandy mountaineers of Ronda. Indeed, 
all this part of Andalusia abounds with such game-looking 
characters. They loiter about the towns and villages ; seem to 
have plenty of time and plenty of money ; " horse to ride and 
weapon to wear." Great gossips, great smokers, apt at touch- 
ing the guitar, singing couplets to their maja belles, and famous 
dancers of the bolero. Throughout all Spain tlie men, however 
poor, have a gentlemanlike abundance of leisure ; seeming to 
consider it the attribute of a true cavaliero never to be in a 
hurry; but the Andalusians are gay as well as leisurely, and 
have none of the squalid accompaniments of idleness. The ad- 
venturous contraband trade which prevails throughout these 
mountain regions, and along the maritime borders of Andalusia, 
is doubtless at the bottom of this galliard character. 

In contrast to the costume of these groups was that of two 
long-legged Valencians conducting a donkey, laden with articles 
of merchandise; their musket slung • crosswise over his back, 
ready for action. They wore round jackets (jalecos), wide linen 
bragas or drawers scarce reaching to the knees and looking like 
kilts, red fajas or sashes swathed tightly round their waists, 
sandals of espartal or bass weed, colored kerchiefs round theii 
heads somewhat in the style of turbans, but leaving the top of 
the head uncovered ; in short, their whole appearance having 
much of the traditional Moorish stamp. 

On leaving Loxa we were joined by a cavalier, well mounted 
aiid well armed, and followed on foot by an escopetero or mus- 



THE JOURNEY 27 

keteer. He saluted ns C(uirteously, and soon let us into his 
quality. He was chief of the customs, or rather, I should sup- 
pose, chief of an armed company whose business it is to patrol 
the roads and look out for contrabandistas. The escopetero 
was one of his guards. In the course of our morning's ride I 
drew from him some particulars concerning the smugglers, who 
have risen to be a kind of mongrel chivalry in Spain. They 
coma into Andalusia, he said, from various parts, but especially 
from La Mancha ; sometimes to receive goods, to be smuggled 
on an appointed night across the line at the plaza or strand of 
Gibraltar ; sometimes to meet a vessel , which is to hover on a 
given night off a certain part of the coast. They keep together 
and travel in the night. In the daytime they lie quiet in 
barrancos, gullies of the mountains, or lonely farm-houses ; 
where they are generally well received, as they make the family 
liberal presents of their smuggled wares. Indeed, nuich of the 
finery and trinkets worn by the wives and daughters of the 
mountain hamlets and farm-houses are pi'esents from the gay 
and open-handed contrabandistas. 

Arrived at the part of the coast where a vessel is to meet 
them, they look out at night from some rocky point or head- 
land. If they descry a sail near the shore they make a con- 
certed signal ; sometimes it consists in suddenly displaying a 
lantern three times from beneath the folds of the cloak. If the 
signal is answered, they descend to the shore and prepare for 
quick work. The vessel runs close in ; all her boats are busy 
landing the smuggled goods, made up into snug packages for 
transportation on horseback. These are hastily thrown on the 
beach, as hastily gathered up and packed on the horses, and 
then the contrabandistas clatter oft' to the mountains. They 
travel by the roughest, wildest, and most solitary roads, where 
it is almost fruitless to pursue them The custom-house guards 
do not attempt it : they take a different course. When they 
hear of one of these bands returning full freighted through the 



28 THE ALHAMBRA 

mountains, they go out in force, sometimes twelve infantry and 
eiglit horsemen, and take their station where the mountain de- 
file opens into the plain. The infantry, who lie in ambush 
some distance within the defile, suffer the band to pass, then 
rise and fire upon them. The contrabandistas dash forward, 
but are met in front by the horsemen. A wild skirmish en- 
sues. The contrabandistas, if hard pressed, become desperate. 
Some dismount, use their horses as breastworks, and fire over 
their backs ; others cut the cords, let the packs fall oflP to delay 
the enemy, and endeavor to escape with their steeds. Some get 
off in this way with the loss of their package ; some are taken, 
horses, packages, and all; others abandon everything, and make 
their escape by scrambling up the mountains. " And then," cried 
Sancho, who had been listening with a greedy ear, " se hacen la- 
drones legitimos" — and then they become legitimate robbers. 

I could not help laughing at Sancho's idea of a legitimate 
calling of the kind ; but the chief of customs told me it was 
really the case that the smugglers, when thus reduced to ex- 
tremity, thought they had a kind of right to take the road, and 
lay travellers under contribution, until they had collected funds 
enough to mount and equip themselves in contrabandista style. 

Towards noon our wayfaring companion took leave of us and 
turned up a steep defile, followed by his escopetero ; and shortly 
afterwards we emerged from the mountains, and entered upon 
the far-famed Vega of Granada. 

Our last mid-day's repast was taken under a grove of olive- 
trees on the border of a rivulet. We were in a classical neigh- 
borhood ; for not far oflf were the groves and orchards of the 
Soto de Roma. This, according to fabulous tradition, was a re- 
treat founded by Count Julian to console his daughter Florinda. 
It was a rural resort of the Moorish kings of Granada ; and has 
in modern times been granted to the Duke of Wellington. 

Our worthy squire made a half melancholy face as he drew 
forth, for the last time, the contents of his alforjas, lamenting 



THE JOURNEY 29 

that our expedition was drawing to a close, for, with such cava- 
liers, he said, he could travel to the world's end. Our repast, 
however, was a gay one ; made under such delightful auspices. 
The day was without a cloud. The heat of the sun was. tem- 
pered by cool hreezes from the mountains. Before us extended 
the glorious Vega. In the distance was romantic Granada sur- 
mounted by the ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while far above 
it the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada shone like silver. 

Our repast finished, we spread our cloaks and took our last 
siesta al fresco, lulled by the humming of bees among the flowers 
and the notes of doves among the olive-trees. When the sultry 
hours were passed we resumed our journey. After a time we 
overtook a pursy little man, shaped not unlike a toad and 
mounted on a mule. He fell into conversation with Sancho, 
and finding we were strangers, undertook to guide us to a good 
posada. He was an escribano (notary), he said, and knew the 
city as thoroughly as his own pocket. *'^A Dios, Senores / what 
a city you are going to see. Such streets ! such squares ! such 
palaces ! and then the women — ah Santa Maria purisima — 
what women !" — "But the posada you talk of," said I, "are 
you sure it is a good one 1 " 

"Good ! Santa Maria ! the best in Granada. Salones grandes 
— camas de hero — colchones de pluma (grand saloons — luxu- 
rious sleeping-rooms — beds of down). Ah, senores, you will 
fare like King Chico in the Alhambra." 

" And how will m.y horses fare 1 " cried Sancho. 

" Like King Chico's horses. Chocolate con leche y hollos 
para almuerza " (chocolate and milk with sugar cakes for break- 
fast), giving the squire a knowing wink and a leer. 

After such satisfactory accounts, nothing more was to be de- 
sired on that head. So we rode quietly on, the squab little 
notary taking the lead, and turning to us every moment with 
some fresh exclamation about the grandeurs of Granada and 
the famous times we were to have at the posada, 



30 THE ALHAMBRA 

Thus escorted, we passed between hedges of aloes and Indian 
figs, and through that wilderness of gardens with which the 
vega is embroidered, and arrived about sunset at the gates of 
the city. Our officious little conductor conveyed us up one 
street and down another, until he rode into the court-yard of an 
inn where he appeared to be perfectly at home. Summoning 
the landlord by his Christian name, he committed us to his care 
as two cavalleros de mucho valor, worthy of his best apartments 
and most sumptuous fare. We were instantly reminded of the 
patronizing stranger who introduced Gil Bias with such a flour- 
ish of trumpets to the host and hostess of the inn at Pennaflor, 
ordering trouts for his supper, and eating voraciously at his ex- 
pense. "You know not what you possess," cried he to the inn- 
keeper and his wife. " You have a treasure in your house. 
Behold in this young gentleman the eighth wonder of the 
world — nothing in this house is too good for Senor Gii 
Bias of Santillane, who deserves to be entertained like a 
prince." 

Determined that the little notary should not eat trouts at 
our expense, like his prototype of Pennaflor, we forbore to ask 
him to supper ; nor had we reason to reproach ourselves with 
ingratitude, for we found before morning the little varlet, who 
was no doubt a good friend of the landlord, had decoyed us into 
one of the shabbiest posadas in Granada. 

1 Note to the Bevised Edition. — The Author feels at liberty to 
mention that his travelling companion was the Prince Dolgorouki, 
at present Russian minister at the Court of Persia. 

2 It may be as well to note here, that the alforjas are square 
pockets at each end of a long cloth about a foot and a half wide, 
formed by turning up its extremities. The cloth is then thrown 
over the saddle, and the pockets hang on each side like saddle- 
bags. It is an Arab invention.. The bota is a leathern bag or 
bottle, of portly dimensions, with a narrow neck. It is also 
Oriental. Hence the scriptural caution which perplexed me in my 
boyhood, not to put new wine into old bottles. 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA 31 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA . 

To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and 
poetical, so inseparably intertwined in the annals of romantic 
Spain, the Alhambra is as much an object of devotion as is the 
Caaba to all true Moslems. How many legends and traditions, 
true and ftibulous, — how many songs and ballads, Arabian and 
Spanish, of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this 
Oriental pile ! It was the royal abode of the Moorish kings, 
where, surrounded with the splendors and refinements of Asiatic 
luxury, they held dominion over what they vaunted as a terres- 
trial paradise, and made their last stand for empire in Spain. 
The royal palace forms but a part of a fortress, the walls of 
which, studded with towers, stretch irregularly round the* whole 
crest of a hill, a spur of the Sierra Nevada or Snowy Moun- 
tains, and overlook the city ; externally it is a rude congregation 
of towers and battlements, with no regularity of plan nor grace 
of architecture, and giving little promise of the grace and beauty 
which prevail within. 

Li the time of the Moors the fortress was capable of contain- 
ing within its outward precincts an army of forty thousand meii, 
and served occasionally as a strong-hold of the sovereigns against 
their rebellious subjects. After the kingdom had passed into 
the hands of the Christians, the Alhambra continued to be a 
royal demesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian ' 
monarchs. The emperor Charles V. commenced a sumptuous 
palace within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by 
i-epeated shocks of earthquakes. The last royal residents were 
Philip V. and his beautiful queen, Elizabetta of Parma, early in 
the eighteenth century. Great preparations were made for their 
reception. The palace and gardens Avere placed in a state of 
repair, and a new suite of apartments erected, and decorated by 
artists brought from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was • 



32 ^ THE ALHAMBEA _ 

transient, and after their departure the palace once more became 
desolate. Still the place was maintained with some " military 
state. The governor held it immediately from the crown, its 
jurisdiction extended down into the suburbs of the city, and was 
independent of the captain-general of Granada. A considerable 
garrison was kept up ; the governor had his apartments in the 
front of the old Moorish palace, and never descended into Gran- 
ada without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a 
little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its 
walls, together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial church. 
The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to the 
Alhambra. Its beautiful halls became desolate and some of them 
fell to ruin ; the gardens were destroyed, and the fountains 
ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings became filled with a 
loose, and lawless population : coritrabandistas, who availed 
themselves of its independent jurisdiction to carry on a wide 
and daring course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues of all 
sorts, who made this their place of refuge whence they might 
depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong arm of 
government at length interfered ; the whole community was 
thoroughly sifted ; none were suffered to remain but such as 
were of honest character, and had legitimate right to a resi- 
dence ; the greater part of the houses were demolished and a 
mere hamlet left, with the parochial church and the Franciscan 
convent. During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada 
was in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned 
by their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited by 
the French commander. With that enlightened taste which 
has ever distinguished the French nation in their conquests, 
this monument of Moorish elegance and grandeur was rescued 
from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhelming 
it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries protected 
from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the watercourses re- 
stored, the fountains once more made to throw up their spark- 



REPAIRS OF THE PALACE 33 

img showers; and Spain may thank her invaders for having 
preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting of her 
historical monuments. 

On the departure of the French they blew up several towers 
of the outer^ wall, and left the fortifications scarcely tenable. 
Since that time the military importance of the post is at an 
end. ^ The garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose 
principal duty is to guard some of the outer towers, which 
serve occasionally as a prison of state; and the governor, 
abandoning the lofty hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre 
of Granada, for the more convenient dispatch of his official 
duties. I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the 
fortress without bearing testimony to the honorable exertions 
of its present commander, Don Francisco de Serna, who is 
tasking all the limited resources at his command to put the 
palace in a state of repair, and by his judicious precautions 
has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his 
predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal 
_p^fidelity, the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its 
fpristine beauty : were government to second him with means 
equal to his zeal, this relic of it might still be preserved for 
many generations to adorn the land, and attract the curious 
and enlightened of every clime. 

Our first object of course, on the morning after our arrival, 
was a visit to this time-honored edifice ; it has been so often, 
however, and so minutely described by travellers, that I shall 
not undertake to give a comprehensive and elaborate account 
of it, but merely occasional sketches of parts, with the inci- 
dents and associations connected with them. 

Leaving our posada, and traversing the renowned square of 
the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts and tourna- 
ments, now a crowded market-place, we proceeded along the 
Zacatin, the main street of what, in the time of the Moors 
was the Great Bazaar, and where small shops and narrov 



34 THE ALHAMBRA 

alleys still retain the Oriental character. Crossing an open 
place in front of the palace of the captain-general, we ascended 
a confined and winding street, the name of which reminded us 
of the chivalric days of Granada. It is called the Calle, or 
street, of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family famous in chron- 
icle and song. This street led up to the Puerta de las Grana- 
das, a massive gateway of Grecian architecture, built by 
Charles V., forming the entrance to the domains of the Al- 
hambra. 

At the gate were two or three ragged superannuated sol- 
diers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris and 
the Abencerrages ; while a tall, meagre varlet, whose rusty- 
brown cloak \vas evidently intended to conceal the ragged 
state of his nether garment, was lounging in the sunshine and 
gossiping with an ancient sentinel on duty. He joined us as 
we entered the gate, and offered his services to show us the 
fortress. ^ • i , 

I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did not 
altogether like the garb of the applicant. 

" You are well acquainted with the place, I presume ? " 

^^ Ninguno, mas ; jjues, seiior, wy hijo de la Alhamhra.^' — 
(Nobody better ; in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alhambra !) 

The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way 
of expressing themselves. "A son of the Alhambra!" the 
appellation caught me at once ; the very tattered garb of my 
ne\v acquaintance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It was em-..^^' 
blematic of the fortunes of the place, and befitted the progeny 
of a ruin. 

I put some further questions to him, and found that his 
title was legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress 
from generation to generation ever since the time of the Con- 
quest. His name was Mateo Ximenes. " Then, perhaps," 
said I, "you may be a descendant from the gj-eat Cardinal 
Ximenes ?" — '^ Dios mhe\ God knows, Senor 1 It way be 



MOORISH TALISMANS 35 

SO. We are the oldest family in the Alhambra, — Chrutianos 
Viejos, Old Christians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I 
know we belong to some great family or other, but I forget 
whom. My father knows all about it : he has the coat of 
arms hanging up in his cottage, up in the fortress." There 
is not any Spaniard, however poor, but has some claim to high 
pedigree. The first title of this ragged worthy, however, had 
completely captivated me ; so I gladly accepted the services of 
the '-'son of the Alhambra." 

We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with 
beautiful groves, with a steep avenue, and various footpaths 
winding through it, bordered with stone seats, and ornamented 
with fountains. To our left we beheld the towers of the Al- 
hambra beetling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side 
of the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on a 
rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Verme- 
jos, or vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No 
one knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior to 
the Alhambra : some suppose them to have been built by the 
Romans ; others, by some wandering colony of Phoenicians. 
Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot 
of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, 
•-.hrough which passed the main entrance to the fortress. 
Within the barbican was another group of veteran invalids, 
one mounting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in 
their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal 
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its 
porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial 
of petty causes : a custom common to the Oriental nations, 
and occasionally alluded to in the Sacred Scriptures. " Judges 
and officers shalt thou make thee in all thy gates, and they 
shall judge the people with just judgment." 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an 
immense Arabian arch, of the horseshoe form, which springs 



36 n THE ALHAMBRA ^' "i f a. \^. ^ 

to. half the height of the tower. On the keystone of this 
arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, on 
the keystone of the portal, is sculptured, in like manner, a 
gigantic key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of 
Mohammedan symbols, affirm that tjie hand is the emblem_of 
doctrine ; the five fingers designating the five principal com- 
mandments of the creed of Islam, _fasting, pilgrimage, alms- 
giving, ablu-tion, and war against infidels. The key, say they, 
is the emblem of the faith or of power ; the key of Daoud, or 
David, transmitted to the prophet. " And the key of the , 
house of David will I lay upon his shoulder ; so he shall open 
and none shall shut, and he shall shut and none shall open.'' 
(Isaiah xxii. 22). The key we are told was emblazoned on 
the standard of the Moslems in opposition to the Christian 
emblem of the cross, when they subdued Spain or Andalusia. 
It betokened the conquering power invested in the prophet. 
" He that hath the key of David, he that openeth and no 
man shutteth ; and shutteth and no man openeth." (Rev. 
iii. 7.) 

A different explanation of these emblems, however, was 
given by the legitimate son of the Alhambra, and one more 
in unison with the notions of the common people, w^ho attach 
something of mystery and magic to everything Moorish, and 
have all kinds of superstitions connected with this old Moslem 
fortress. According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed dowm 
from the oldest inhabitants, and which he had from his father 
and grandfather, that the hand and key were magical devices 
on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The Moorish 
king who built it was a great magician, or, as some believed, 
had sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress 
under a magic spell. By this means it had remained standing 
for several years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, while 
almost all other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and 
disappeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say, would 



MOORISH TALISMANS 37 

;ast uutil the hand on the outer arch should reach down and 
grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, and 
all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be 
revealed. 

Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to 
pass through the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little as- 
surance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, a 
statue of whom we observed above the portal. 

After passing through the barbican, we as(3ended a narrow 
lane, winding between walls, and came on an open esplanade 
within the fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place 
of the Cisterns, from great reservoirs which undermine it, cut 
in the living rock by the Moors to receive, the water brought by 
conduits from the Darrow, for the supply of the fortress. Here, 
also, is a w^ell of immense depth, furnishing the purest and 
coldest of water, — another monument of the delicate taste of 
the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to obtain 
that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile commenced by 
Charles V., and intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of 
the Moorish kings. Much of the Oriental edifice intended for 
the winter season was demolished to make way for this massive 
pile. The grand entrance was blocked up ; so that the present 
entrance to the Moorish palace is through a simple and almost 
humble portal in a corner. With all the massive grandeur and 
architectural merit of the palace of Charles Y., we regarded it 
as an arrogant intruder, and passing by it with a feeling almost 
of scorn, rang at the Moslem portal. 

While waiting for admittance, our self-imposed cicerone, 
Mateo Ximenes, informed us that the royal palace was intrusted 
to the care of a worthy old maiden dame called Dona Antonia- 
Molina, but who, according to Spanish custom, went by the 
more neighborly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt Antonia), who 
rrnintained the Moorish halls and gardens in order and showed 



38 THE ALHAMBRA 

them to strangers. While we were talking, the door was opened 
by a plump little black-eyed Andalusian damsel, whom Mateo 
addressed as Dolores, but who from her bright looks and cheerful 
disposition evidently merited a merrier name. Mateo informed 
me in a whisper that she was the niece of Tia Antonia, and 
I found she was the good fairy who was to conduct us 
through the enchanted palace. Under her guidance we crossed 
the threshold, and were at once transported, as if by magic 
wand, into other times and an orienta,! realm, and were tread- 
ing the scenes of Arabian story. Nothing could be in greater 
contrast than the unpromising exterior of the pile with the 
scene now before us. W^ found ourselves in a vast patio or 
court, one hundred and fifty feet in length, and upwards of 
eighty feet in breadth, paved with white marble, and decorated 
at each end with light Moorish peristyles, one of which sup- 
ported an elegant gallery of fretted architecture. Along the 
mouldings of the cornices and on various parts of the walls were 
escutcheons and ciphers, and Cufic and Arabic characters in high 
relief, repeating the pious mottoes of the Moslem monarchs, tlie 
builders of the Alhambra, or extolling their grandeur and muni- 
ficence. Along the centre of the court extended an immense 
basin or tank (estanque), a hundred and twenty-four feet in 
length, twenty-seven in breadth, and five in depth, receiving its 
water from two marble vases. Hence it is called the Court of 
the Alberca (from al Beerkah, the Arabic for a pond or tank). 
Great numbers of gold-fish were to be seen gleaming through 
the waters of the basin, and it was bordered by hedges of roses. 
Passing from the Court of the Alberca under a Moorish 
archway, we entered the renowned Court of Lions. No part 
of the edifice gives a more complete idea of its original beauty 
than this, for none has suffered so little from the ravages of 
time. In the centre stands the fountain famous in song and 
story The alabaster basins still shed their diamond drops ; 
the twelve lions which support them, and give the court its 



^ 



INTERIOR OF THE PALACE 39 

aame, still cast forth crystal streams as in the days of BoabdiL 
The lions, however, are unworthy of their fame, being of misera- 
ble sculpture, the work probably of some Christian captive. 
The court is laid out in flower-beds, instead of its ancient and 
appropriate pavement of tiles or marble; the alteration, an 
instance of bad taste, was made by the French when in posses- 
sion of Granada. Round the four sides of the court are light 
Arabian arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender 
pillars of white marble, which it is supposed were originally 
gilded. The architecture, like that in most parts of the interior 
of the palace, is characterized by elegance rather than grandeur, 
bes})eaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a disposition to 
indolent enjoyment. When one looks upon the fairy traces of 
the peristyles, and the apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, 
it is difficult to believe that so much has survived the wear and 
tear of centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, the violence of 
war, and the quiet, though no less baneful, pilferings of the 
tasteful traveller : it is almost sufficient to excuse the popular 
tradition, that the whole is protected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court a rich portal opens into the Hall of 
the Abencerrages : so called from the gallant cavaliers of that 
illustrious line who were here perfidiously massacred. There 
are some who doubt the whole story, but our humble cicerone 
Mateo pointed out the very wicket of the portal through which 
they were introduced one by one into the Court of Lions, and 
the white marble fountain in the centre of the hall beside which 
they were beheaded. He showed us also certain broad ruddy 
stains on the pavement, traces of their blood, which, according 
to popular belief, can never be effaced. 

Finding we listened to him apparently with easy faith, he 
added, that there was often heard at night, in the Court of Lions, 
a low confused sound, resembling the murmuring of a multi- 
tude, and now and then a faint tinkling, like the distant clank 
of chains. These sounds were made by the spirits of the mur- 



40 THE ALHAMBRA 

dered Abencerrages ; who nightly haunt the scene of their suf 
fering and invoke the vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

The sounds in question had no doubt been produced, as I had 
afterwards an opportunity of ascertaining, by the bubbling cur- 
rents and tinkling falls of water conducted under the pavement 
through pipes and channels to supply the fountains ; but I was 
too considerate to intimate such an idea to the humble chroni- 
cler of the Alhambra. 

Encouraged by my easy credulity, Mateo gave me the follow- 
ing as an undoubted fact, which he had from his grandfather: — 

There was once an invalid soldier, who had charge of the 
Alhambra to show it to strangers; as he was one evening, 
about twilight, passing through the court of the Lions, he heard 
footsteps on the Hall of the Abencerrages; supposing some 
strangers to be lingering there, he advanced to attend upon 
them, when, to his astonishment, he beheld four Moors richly 
dressed, with gilded cuirasses and ciraeters, and poniards glit- 
tering with precious stones. They were walking to and fro, 
with solemn pace ; but paused and beckoned to him. The old 
soldier, however, took to flight, and could never afterwards be 
prevailed upon to enter the Alhambra. Thus it is that men 
sometimes turn their backs upon fortune ; for it is the firm 
opinion of Mateo, that the Moors intended to reveal the place 
where their treasures lay buried. A successor to the invalid 
soldier was more knowing ; he came to the Alhambra poor ; but 
at the end of a year went off to IMalaga, bought houses, set up 
a carriage, and still lives there, one of the richest as well as 
oldest men of the place ; all which, Mateo sagely surmised, was 
in consequence of his finding out the golden secret of these 
phantom Moors. 

I now perceived I had made an invaluable acquaintance in 
this son of the Alhambra, one who knew all the apocryphal 
history of the place, and firmly believed in it, and whose memory 
was stuff'ed with a kind of knowledge for which I have a lurking 



HALL OF THE TWO SISTERS 4J 

fancy, but which is too apt to be considered rubbish by less in- 
(lulgent philosophers. I determined to cultivate the acquainc- 
ance of this learned Theban. 

Immediately opposite the Hall of the Abencerrages, a portal, 
riclily adorned, leads into a hall of less tragical associations. It 
is light and lofty, exquisitely graceful in its architecture, paved 
with white marble, and bears the suggestive name of the Hall 
of the Two Sisters. Some destroy the romance of the name 
by attributing it to two enormous slabs of alabaster which lie 
side by side, and form a great part of tlie pavement : an opinion 
strongly supported by j\Iateo Ximenes. Others are disposed to 
give the name a more poetical significance, as tlie vague memo- 
rial of Moorish beauties who once graced this hall, which was 
evidently a part of the royal hgieiji. This opinion I was happy 
to find entertained by our little bright-eyed guide, Dolores, who 
pointed to a balcony over an inner porch, wliich gallery, she 
had been told, belonged to the women's apartment. " You see, 
seuor," said she, "it is all grated and latticed, like the gallery 
in a convent chapel where the nuns hear mass ; for the Moorish 
kings," added she, indignantly, "shut up their wives just like 
nuns." 

The latticed "jalousies," in fact, still remain, whence the 
dark-eyed beauties of the harem might gaze unseen upon the 
zambras and other dances and entertainments of the hall below. 

On each side of this hall are recesses or alcoves for ottomans 
and couches, on which the voluptuous lords of the Alhambra 
indulged in that dreamy repose so dear to the Orientalists. A 
cupola or lantern admits a tempered light from above and a free 
circulation of air ; while on one side is heard the refreshing sound 
of waters from the fountain of the lions, and on the other side 
the soft plash from the basin in the garden of Lindaraxa. 

It is impossible to contemplate this scene, so perfectly Ori- 
ental, without feeling the early associations of Arabian romance, 
and almost expecting to see the white arm of some mysterious 



4:2 THE ALHAMBRA 

princess beckoniug from the gallery, or some dark eye sparkling 
through the lattice. The abode of beauty is here as if it had 
been inhabited but yesterday ; but where are the two sisters, 
where the Zoraydas and Lindaraxas ! 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountains 
by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace, sup- 
plying its baths and fish -pools, sparkling in jets within its halls 
or murmuring in channels along the marble pavements. When 
it has paid its tribute to the royal pile, and visited its gardens 
and parterres, it flows down the long avenue leading to the city, 
tinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining a per- 
petual verdure in those groves that embower and beautify the 
whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those only who have sojourned in the ardent climates of the 
South can appreciate the delights of an abode combining the 
breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and verdure 
of the valley. While the city below pants Avith the noontide 
heat, and the parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate 
airs from the Sierra Nevada play through these lofty halls, bring- 
ing with them the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. Eveiy- 
thing invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of southern climes ; 
and while the half-shuF eye looks out from shaded balconies 
upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling 
of groves and the murmur of running streams. 

I forbear for the present, however, to describe the other de- 
lightful apartments of the palace. My object is merely to give 
the reader a general introduction into an abode where, if so dis- 
posed, he may linger and loiter with me day by day until we 
gradually become familiar with all its localities. 

NOTE ON MORISCO ARCHITECTURE 

To an unpractised eye the light relievos and fanciful arabescQies, 
which cover the walls of the Alhambra appear to have been sculp- 
iured bv the hand, with a minute and patient labor, an inexhausti- 



NOTE ON MORISCO ARCHITECTURE 43 

ble variety of detail, yet a general uniformity and harmony of 
design truly astonishing ; and this may especially be said of the 
vaults and cupolas, which are wrought like honey-combs, or frost- 
work, with stalactites and pendants which confound the beholder 
with the seeming i ntricac y 61 their patterns. The astonishment 
ceases, however, wlien it is discovered that this is all stucco-work ; 
plates of plaster of Paris, cast in moulds and skilfully joined so as 
to form patterns of every size and form. This mode of diapering 
walls with arabesques, and stuccoing the vaults with grotto-work, 
was invented in Damascus, but highly improved by the INIoors in 
Morocco, to whom Saracenic architecture owes its most graceful 
and fanciful details. The process by which all this fairy tracery 
was produced was ingeniously simple. The wall in its naked staie 
w^as divided off by lines crossing at right angles, such as artists use 
in copying a picture ; over these were drawn a succession of inter- 
secting segmen ts of circles. By the aid of these the artists could 
work with celerity and certainty, and from the mere intersection 
of the plain and curved lines arose the interminable variety of pat- 
terns and the general uniformity of theiFcharacter. 

Much gilding was used in the stucco-work, especially of the cupo- 
las ; and the interstices were delicately pencilled with brilliant colors, 
such as vermilion and lapis lazuli, laid on with the whites of eggs. 
The primitive colors alone were used, says Ford, by the Egyptians, 
Greeks, and Arabs, in the early period of art ; and they prevail in 
the Alhambra whenever the artist has been Arabic or Moorish. 
It is remarkable how much of their original brilliancy remains after 
the lapse of several centuries. 

The lower part of the w^^lls in the saloons, to the height of several 
feet, is incrusted with glazed tiles, joined like the plates of stucco- 
work, so as to form various patterns. On some of them are em- 
blazoned the escutclie.ons of the Moslem kings, traversed with a 
band and motto. These glazed tiles (azulejos in Spanish, az-zulaj 
in Arabic) are of Oriental origin ; their coolness, cleanliness, and 
freedom from vermin, render them admirably fitted in sultry cli- 
mates for paving halls and fountains, incrusting bathing-rooms, and 
lining the walls of chambers. Ford is inclined to give them great 
antiquity. From their prevailing colors, sapphire and blue, he de- 
duces that they may have formed the kind of pavements alluded to 
in the sacred Scriptures : — ''There was under his feet as it were a 
paved w^ork of a sapphire stone " (Exod. xxiv. 10) ; and again, 
" Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and lay thy founda- 
tions with sapphires " (Isaiah liv. 11\ 



44 THE ALHAMBRA 

These glazed or porcelain tiles were introduced into Spain at an 
early date by the Moslems. Some are to be seen among the Moor- 
ish ruins which have been there upwards of eight centuries. Manu- 
factures of them still exist in the Peninsula, and thej^ are much used 
in the best Spanish houses, especially in the soutliern provinces, for 
paving and lining the summer apartments. 

The Spaniards introduced them into the Netherlands when they 
had possession of that country. The people of Holland adopted 
them with avidity, as wonderfully suited to their passion for house- 
hold cleanliness ; and thus these Oriental inventions, the azulejos 
of the Spanish, the az-zulaj of the Arabs, have come to be com- 
monly known as Dutch tiles. 



IMPORTANT NEGOTIATIONS — THE AUTHOR SUC- 
CEEDS TO THE THRONE OF BOABDIL 

The day was nearly spent before we could tear ourself from 
this region of poetry and romance to descend to the city and re- 
turn to the forlorn realities of a Spanish posada. In a visit of 
ceremony to the Governor of the Alhambra, to whom we had 
brought letters, we dwelt with enthusiasm on the scenes we had 
witnessed, and could not but express surprise that he should re- 
side in the city when he had such a paradise at his command. 
He pleaded the inconvenience of a residence in the palace from 
its situation on the crest of a hill, distant from the seat of busi- 
ness and the resorts of social intercourse. It did very well for 
monarchs, who often had need of castle walls to defend them 
from their own subjects. "But, senors," added he, smiling, 
" if you think a residence there so desirable, my apartments in 
the Alhambra are at your service." 

It is a common and almost indiapensable point of politeness 
in a Spaniard to tell you his house is yours. — " Esta casa es 
siempre a la disposicion de Vm." — ( This house is always at 
the command of your Grace.) In fact, anything of his which 
you admire is immediately offered to you. It is equally a mark 



THE LOAN OF A PALACE 45 

of good breeding in you not to accept it ; so we merely bowed 
our acknowledgments of the courtesy of the Governor in offer- 
ing us a royal palace. We were mistaken, however. The Gov- 
ernor was in earnest. "You will find a rambling set of empty, 
unfurnished rooms," said he ; " but Tia Antonia. who has charge 
of the palace, may be able to put them in some kind of order, 
and to take care of you while you are there. If you can make 
any arrangement with her for your accommodation, and are con- 
tent with scanty fare in a royal abode, the palace of King Chico 
is at your service." 

We took the Governor at his word, and hastened up the 
steep Calle de los Gomeres, and through the Great Gate of 
Justice, to negotiate with Dame Antonia, — doubting at times 
if this were not a dream, and fearing at times that the sage 
Duena of the fortress might be slow to capitulate. We knew 
we had one friend at least in the garrison, who would be in 
our favor, the bright-eyed little Dolores, whose good graces we 
had propitiated on our first visit ; and who hailed our return 
to the palace with her brightest looks. 

All, however, went smoothly. The good Tia Antonia had 
a httle furniture to put in the rooms, but it was of the com- 
monest kind. We assured her we could bivOuac on the floor. 
She could supply our table, but only in her own simple way ; — 
we wanted nothing better. Her niece, Dolores, would wait 
upon us ; and at the word we threw up our hats and the bar- 
gain was complete. 

The very next day we took up our abode in the palace, and 
never did sovereigns share a divided throne with more perfect 
harmony. Several days passed by like a dream, when my 
worthy associate, being summoned to Madrid on diplomatic 
duties, was compelled to abdicate, leaving me sole monarch 
of this shadowy realm. For myself, being in a manner a hap- 
hazard loiterer about the world, and prone to linger in its 
pleasant places, here have I bt*n suffering day by day to steal 



46 THE ALHAMBRA 

away unheeded, spell-bound, for aught I know, in this old 
enchanted pile. Having always a companionable feeling for 
my reader, and being prone to live \vith him on confidential 
terms, I shall make it a point to communicate to him my 
reveries and researches during this state of delicious thraldom. 
If they have the power of imparting to his imagination any of 
the witching charms of the place, he will not repine at lingering 
with me for a season in the legendary halls of the Alhambra. 

And first it is proper to give him some idea of my domestic 
arrangements : they are rather of a simple kind for the occu- 
pant of a regal palace ; but I trust they will be less liable to 
disastrous reverses than those of my royal predecessors. 

My quarters are at one end of the Governor's apartment, 
a suite of empty chambers, in front of the palace, looking out 
upon the great esplanade called la i:>laza de los alffibes (the 
place of the cisterns) ; the apartment is modern, but the end 
opposite to my sleeping-room communicates with a cluster 
of little chambers, partly Moorish, partly Spanish, allotted to 
the chatdlaine Doiia Antonia and her family. In consideration 
of keeping the palace in order, the good dame is allowed all the 
perquisites received from visitors, and all the produce of tlie 
gardens; excepting that she is expected to pay an occasional 
tribute of fruits and flowers to the Governor. Her family 
consists of a nephew and niece, the children of two different 
brothers. The nephew, Manuel Molina, is a young man of 
sterling worth and Spanish gravity. He had S'^rved in the 
army, both in Spain and the West Indies, but is now study- 
ing medicine in the hope of one day or other becoming physi- 
cian to the fortress, a post worth at least one hundred and forty 
dollars a year. The niece is the plump little black-eyed 
Dolores already mentioned ; and who, it is said, will one day 
inherit all her aunt's possessions, consisting of certain petty 
tenements in the fortress, in a somewhat ruinous condition it is 
true, but which, I am privat#)^ assured by Mateo Ximenes, 



DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS 47 \ 

yield a revenue of nearly one hundred and fifty dollars, so that i 
she is quite an heiress in the eyes of the ragged son of the | 
Alhambra. I am also informed by the same observant and I 
authentic personage, that a quiet courtship is going on between 
the discreet Manuel and his i)right-eyed cousin, and that nothing 
is wanting to enable them to join their hands and expectations j 
but his doctor's diploma, and a dispensation from the Pope on i 
account of their consanguinity. ~ v . • ■ 

The good dame Autonia fulfils faithfully her contract in ! 
regard to my board and lodging ; and as I am easily pleased, j 
I find my fare excellent ; while the merry-hearted little Dolores i 
keeps my apartments in order, and officiates as handmaid at 
meal-times. I have also at my command a tall, stuttering, \ 
yellow-haired lad, named Pdpe, who works in the gardens, and | 
would fain have acted as valet; but in this he was forestalled j 
by Mateo Ximenes, the "son of the Alhambra." This alert 1 
and officious wight has managed, somehow or other, to stick \ 
by me ever since I first encountered him at the outer gate of the j 
fortress, and to weave himself into all my plans, until he,. has i 
fairly appointed and installed himself my valet, cicerone, guide, j 
guard, and historiographic squire ; and I have been obliged to -i 
improve the state of his wardrobe, that he may not disgrace his \ 
various functions ; so that he has cast his old brown mantle, ' 
as a snake does his skin, and now appears about the fortress : 
with a smart Andalusian hat and jacket, to his infinite satisfac- ! 
tion, and tlie great astonishment of his comrades. The chief ■ 
fault of honest Mateo is an over-anxiety to be useful. Con- ■ 
scious of having foisted himself into my employ, and that my \ 
simple and quiet habits render his situation a sinecure, he is at i 
his wit's ends to devise modes of making himself important | 
to my welfare. I am in a manner the victim of his officious- \ 
ness; I cannot put my foot over the threshold of the I 
palace, to stroll about the fortress, but he is at my elbow to j 
explain everything I see; and if I venture to ramble among i 



48 THE ALHAMBRA 

the surrounding hills, he insists upon attending me as a guard, 
though I vehemently suspect he would be more apt to trust to 
the length of his legs than the strength of his arms, in cast 
of attack. After all, however, the poor fellow is at times an 
amusing companion ; he is simple-minded and of infinite good 
humor, with the loquacity and gossip of a village barber, and 
knows all the small-talk of the place and its environs ; but 
what he chiefly values himself on, is his stock of local informa- 
tion, having the most marvellous stories to relate of every 
tower, and vault, and gateway of the fortress, in all of which he 
places the most implicit faith. 

Most of these he has derived, according to his own account, 
from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, who lived to the * 
age of nearly a hundred years, during which he made but two 
migrations beyond the precincts of the fortress. His shop, for the 
greater part of a century was the resort of a knot of venerable' 
gossips, where they would pass half the night talking about old 
times, and the wonderful events and Jiidden secrets of the 
place. The whole living, moving, thinking, and acting of this 
historical little tailor had thus been bounded by the walls of tlie 
Alhambra ;. within tliem he had been born, within them he 
lived, breathed, and had his bein^; within them. 1^§, died and ^-^^^ 
was buried. Fortunately for posterity, his traditionary lore 
died not with him. The authentic Mateo, when an urchin, 
used to be an attentive listener to the narratives of his 
grandfather, and of the gossiping group assembled round the 
shopboard, and is thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowl- 
edge concerning the Alhambra, not to be found in books, and 
well worthy the attention of every curious traveller. 

Such are the personages that constitute my regal household ; 
and I question whether any of the potentates, Moslem or 
Christian, who have preceded me in the palace, have been 
waited upon with greater fidelity, or enjoyed a serener sway. 

When I rise in the morning, Pdpe, the stuttering lad from 



THE LEVEE OF TIA AKTONIA 49 

tlie gardens, brings me a tribute of fresh-culled flowers, which 
are afterwards arranged in vases by the skilful hands of Dolores, 
who takes a feminine pride in the decoration of my chambers. 
My meals are made wherever caprice dictates ; sometimes in one 
of the Moorish lialls, sometimes under the arcades of the Court of 
Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains : and when I walk out, 
I am 'conducted by the assiduous Mateo to the most romantic 
retreats of the mountains, and delicious haunts of the adjacent 
valleys, not one of which but is the scene of some wonderful tale. 
Though fond of passing the greater part of my day alone, 
yet I occasionally repair in the evenings to the little domestic 
circle of Doiia Antonia. This is generally held in an old_ Moor- 
ish chamber, which serves the good dame for parlor, kitchen, 
and hall of audience, and which must have boasted of some 
splendor in the time of the Moors, if we may judge from the 
traces yet remaining; but a rude fireplace has been made in 
modern times in one corner, the smoke from which has dis- 
colored the walls, and almost obliterated the ancient arabesques. 
A window, with a balcony overhanging the valley of the Darro, 
lets in the cool evening breeze; and here I take my frugal 
supper of fruit and milk, and mingle with the conversation of 
the family. There is a natural talent or mother-wit, as it is 
called, about the Spaniards, which renders them intellectual 
and agreeable companions, whatever may be their condition m 
life, or however imperfect may have been their education : add 
to this, they are never vulgar ; nature has endowed them with 
an inherent dignity of spirit. The good Tia Antonia is a woman 
of strong and inteUigent, though uncultivated mmd; and the 
brio-ht-eyed Dolores, though she has read but three or four books 
in "the- whole course of her life, has an engaging mixture of 
naivete and good sense, and often surprises me by the pungency 
of her artless sallies. Sometimes the nephew entertains us by 
reading some old comedy of Calderon or Lope de Vega, to which 
he is evidently prompted by a desire to improve as well as amuse 



50 THE ALHAMBRA 

his cousin Dolores ; though, to his great mortifieation, the little 
damsel generally falls asleep before the first act is completed. 
Sometimes Tia Antonia has a little levee of humble friends and 
dependants, the inhabitants of the adjacent hamlet, or the wives 
of the invalid soldiers. These look up to her with great defer- 
'ace, as the custodian of the palace, and pay their court to her 
by bringing the news of the place, or the rumors that may 
have straggled up from Granada. In listening to these evening 
gossipings I have picked up many curious facts illustrative of the 
manners of the people and the peculiarities of the neighborhood. 
These are simple details of simple pleasures ; it is the nature 
of the place alone that gives them interest and importance. 
I tread haunted ground, and am surrounded by romantic asso- 
ciations. From earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the 
Hudson, I first pored over the pages of old Gines Perez de 
Hytas's apocryphal but chivalresque history of the civil wars of 
Granada, and the feuds of its gallant cavaliers, the Zegries and 
Abencerrages, that city has ever been a subject of my waking 
dreams ; and often have I trod in fancy the romantic halls of 
the Alhambra. Behold for once a day-dream realized; yet I 
can scarce credit my senses, or believe that I do indeed inhabit 
the palace of Boabdil, and look down from its balconies upon 
chivalric Granada. As I loiter through these Oriental chambers, 
and hear the murmur of fountains and the song of the nightin- 
gale ; as I inhale the odor of the rose, and feel the influence of the 
balmy climate, I am almost tempted to fancy myself in a paradise 
of Mahomet, and that the plump little Dolores is one of the 
bright-eyed houris, destined to administer to the happiness of 
true believers. 

INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA 

I HAVE often observed that the more proudly a mansion has 
been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humble^- are its 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA 51 j 

inhabitants in the day of its decline, and that the palace of a j 
king commonly ends in being the nestling-place of the beggar. 

The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transition .'nc^. 

Whenever a tower falls to decay, it is seized upon by some '*] 
tatterdemalion family, who become joint-tenants, with the bats 

and owls, of its gilded halls ; and hang their rags, those stand- • 
ards of poverty, out of its windows and loopholes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of the motley : 

characters that have thus usurped the ancient abode of royalty, | 

and who seem as if placed here to give a farcical termination to | 

the drama of human pride. One of these even bears the motk- I 

ery of a regal title. It is a little old woman named Maria j 

Antonia Sabonea, but who goes by the appellation of la Reyna i 

Coquina, or the Cockle-queen. She is small enough to be a i 

fairy ; and a fairy she may be for ought I can find out, for no ; 

one seems to know her origin. Her habitation is in a kind of I 

closet under the outer staircase of the palace, and' she sits in • 

the cool stone corridor, plying her needle and singing from i 

morning till night, with a ready joke for every one that passes ; I 

for though one of the poorest, she is one of the merriest little i 

women breathing. Her great merit is a gift for story-telling, \ 
having, I verily believe, as many stories at her command as the 
inexhaustible Scheherezade of the Thousand and One Nights. 
Some of these I have heard her relate in the evening tertulias 
of Dame Antonia, at which she is occasionally a humble 

attendant. | 

That there must be some fairy gift about this mysterious : 

little old woman, would appear from her extraordinary luck, i 
since, notwithstanding her being very little, very ugly, and very 

poor, she has had, according to her own account, five husbands j 
and a half, reckoning as a half one a young dragoon, who died 

during courtship. A rival personage to this little fairy queen j 
is a portly old fellow with ^a bottle-nose, who goes about in a 

rusty garb, with a cocked hat of oil-skin and a red cockade. He j 



52 THE ALHAMBRA 

is one of the legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and has lived here ah 
his life, filling- various offices, such as deputy alguazil, sexton of 
the parochial church, and marker of a fives-court, established ai 
the foot of one of the towers. He is as poor as a rat, but as 
proud as he is ragged, boasting of his descent from the illustrious 
house of Aguilar, from which sprang Gonzalvo of Cordova, the 
grand captain. Nay, he actually bears the name of Alonzo de 
Aguilar, so renowned in the history of the Conquest ; though 
the graceless wags of the fortress have given him the title of el 
pcidre santo, or the holy father, the usual appellation of the 
Pope, which I had thought too sacred in the eyes of true Cath- 
olics to be thus ludicrously applied. It is a whimsical caprice 
of fortune to present, in the grotesque person of this tatterde- 
malion, a namesake and descendant of the proud Alonzo de 
Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian chivalry, leading an almost 
mendicant existence about this once haughty fortress, which his 
ancestor ai'ded to reduce ; yet such might have been the lot of 
the descendants of Agamemnon and Achilles, had they lingered 
about the ruins of Troy ! 

Of this motley community, I find the family of my gossiping 
squire, Mateo Ximenes, to form, from their numbers at least, a 
very important part. His boast of being a son of the Alhambra 
is not unfounded. His family has inhabited the fortress ever 
since the time of the Conquest, handing down an hereditary 
poverty from father to son ; not one of them having ever been 
known to be worth a maravedi. His father, by trade a ribbon- 
weaver, and who succeeded the historical tailor as the head of 
the family, is now near seventy years of age, and lives in a 
hovel of reeds and plaster, built by his own hands, just above 
the iron gate. The furniture consists of a crazy bed, a table, 
and two or three chairs; a wooden chest, containing, besides 
his scanty clothing, the "archives of the family." These are 
nothing more nor less than the papers of various lawsuits sus- 
tained by different generations ; by which it would seem that, 



THE FAMILY OF MATEO 53 

'A with all their apparent carelessness and good-humor, they are a 
litigious brood. Most of the suits have been brought against 
gossiping neighbors for questioning the purity of their blood, 
and denying their being Christianos Vtejos, i.e. Old Christians, 
without Jewish or Moorish taint. In fact, I doubt whether 
this jealousy about their blood has not kept them so poor \\\ 
purse : spending all their earnings on escribanos and alguazils.. 
The pride of the hovel is an escutcheon suspended against the- 
wall, in which are emblazoned quarterings of the arms of the 
Marquis of Caiesedo, and of various other noble houses, with 
which this poverty-stricken brood claim affinity. 

As to Mateo himself, who is now about thirty-five years of 
age, he has done his utmost to perpetuate his line and continue 
the poverty of the family, having a wife and a numerous prog- 
eny, who inhabit an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. 
How they manage to subsist, he only who sees into all mysteries 
can tell ; the subsistence of a Spanish family of the kind is al- 
ways a riddle to me ; yet they do subsist, and what is more, 
appear to enjoy their existence. The wife takes her holiday 
stroll on the Paseo of Granada, with a child in her arms and 
half a dozen at her heels ; and the eldest daughter, now verg- 
ing into womanhood, dresses her hair with flowers, and dances 
gayly to the castanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life seems one long 
holiday, — the very rich and the very poor ; one, because they 
need do nothing ; the other, because they have nothing to do ; 

• but there are none who understand the art of doing nothing and 
living upon nothing, better than the poorer classes of Spain. 
Climate does one half, and temperament the rest. Give a Span- 
iard the shade in summer and the sun in winter, a little bread, 
garlic, oil, and garbances, an old brown cloak and a guitar, and 
let the world roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty ! with him 
it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a grandiose style, like. 
his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo, even when in rags. 



54 THE ALHAMBRA 

The " sons of the Alhambra" are an eminent illustration of this 
practical philosophy. As the Moors imagined that the celestial 
paradise himg over this favored spot, so I am inclined at times 
to fancy that a gleam of the golden age still lingers about this 
ragged community. They possess nothing, they do nothing, they 
care for nothing. Yet, though apparently idle all the week, 
they are as observant of all holy days and saints' days as the 
most laborious artisan. They attend all fetes and dancings in 
Granada and its vicinity, light bonfires on the hills on St. John's 
eve, and dance away the moonlight nights on the harvest-home 
of a small field within the precincts of the fortress, which yield 
a few bushels of wheat. 

Before concluding these remarks, I must mention one of the 
amusements of the place, which has particularly struck me. I 
had repeatedly observed a long, lean fellow perched on the top 
of one of the towers, manoeuvring two or three fishing-rods, as 
though he were angling for the stars. I was for some time per- 
plexed by the evolutions of this aerial fisherman, and my per- 
plexity increased on observing others employed in like manner 
on different parts of the battlements and bastions ; it was not 
until I consulted Mateo Xiraenes that I solved the mystery. 

It seems that the pure and airy situation of. t^iis fortress has 
rendered it, like the castle of Macbeth, a jpMiific ' breeding-place 
for swallows and martlets, who sport about its towers in myr- 
iads, with the holiday glee of urchins just let loose from school. 
To entrap these birds in their giddy circlings, with hooks baited 
with flies, is one of the favorite amusements of the ragged "sons 
of the Alhambra," who, with the good-for-nothing ingenuity of 
arrant idlers, have thus invented the art of angling in the sky 



THE HALL OF AMBASSADORS 55 



THE HALL OF AMBASSADORS 

In one of my visits to the old Moorish chamber where the 
good Tia Antonia cooks her dinner and receives her company, I 
observed a mysterious door in one corner, leading apparently 
into the ancient part of the edifice. My curiosity being aroused, 
I opened it, and found myself in a narrow, blind corridor, grop- 
ing along which I came to the head of a dark winding staircase, 
leading down an angle of the Tower of Comares. Down this 
staircase I descended darkling, guiding myself by the wall until 
I came to a small door at the bottom, throwing which open, I 
was suddenly dazzled by emerging into the brilliant antecham- 
ber of the Hall of Ambassadors ; with the fountain of the court 
of the Alberca sparkling before me. The antechamber is sepa- 
rated from the court by an elegant gallery, supported by slender 
columns with spandrels of open work in the Morisco style. At 
each end of the antechamber are alcoves, and its ceiling is richly 
stuccoed and painted. Passing through a magnificent portal, 
I found myself in the far-famed Hall of Ambassadors, the audi- 
ence chamber of the Moslem monarchs. It is said to be thirty- 
seven feet square, and sixty feet high ; occupies the whole • 
interior of the Tower of Comares ; and still bears the traces of | 
past magnificence. The walls are beautifully stuccoed and deco- i 
rated with Morisco fancifulness ; the lofty ceiling was oiiginally t 
of the same favorite material, with the usual frostwork and £e^3f^ 
si^e^ ornaments or stalactites ; which, with the embellishments 
of vivid coloring and gilding, must have been gorgeous in the 
extreme. Unfortunately it gave way during an earthquake, and j 
brought down \\ith it an immense arch which traversed the j 
hall. It was replaced by tlie present vault or dome of larch or | 
cedar, with intersecting ribs, the whole curiously wrought and 
richly colored ; still Oriental in its character, reminding one of i 



56 THE ALHAMBRA 

" those ceilings of cedar and vermilion that we read of iu the 
Prophets and the Arabian Nights." 

/ From the great height of the vault above the windows, the 

-^'uppcr part of the hall is almost lost in obscurity ; yet there is 

a magniftcence as well as solemnity iu the gloom, as through it 

we have gleams of rich gilding and the brilliant tints of the 

Moorish pencil. 

The royal throne was placed opposite the entrance in a recess, 
which still bears an inscription intimating tliat Yusef I, (tlie 
monarch who completed the Alhambra) made this the throne 
of his empire. Everything in this noble hall seems to have 
been calculated to surround the throne with impressive dignity 
and splendor; there was none of the elegant voluptuousness 
which reigns in other parts of the palace. The tower is of 
massive strength, domineering over the whole edifice and over- 
hanging the steep hillside. On three sides of the Hall of Am- 
bassadors are windows cut through the immense thickness of 
the walls and commanding extensive prospects. Tlie balcony 
of tlie central window especially looks down upon the verdant 
valley of the Darro, with its walks, its groves, and gardens, 
fo the left it enjoys a distant prospect of the Vega ; while di- 
rectly in front rises the rival height of the Albaycin, with its 
medley of streets, and terraces, and gardens, and once crowned 
by a fortress that vied in power with the Alhambra. " 111 
fiited the man who lost all this ! " exclaimed Charles Y., as he 
looked forth from this window upon the enchanting scenery 
it commands. 

The balcony of the window where this royal exclamation was 
made, has of late become one of my favorite resorts. I have 
just been seated there, enjoying the close of a long brilliant day. 
The sun, as he sank behind tlie purple mountains of Alhama, 
sent a stream of eftulgence up the valley of the Darro, that 
spread a melancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alham- 
bra ; while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry vapor that 



THE HALL OB' AMBASSADORS 57 

rnii^ht the scttino^ ray, seemed spread out in the distance like a 
<]:()lden sea. Not a breatli of air disturb(>d tlie stillness of tlie 
hour, and though the faint sound of music and merriment now 
and then rose from the gardens of the Darro, it but rendered 
more impressive tlie monumental silence of the pile which over- 
shadowed me. It was one of those hours and sc(>nes in which 
memory asserts an almost magical power : and, like the evening 
sun beaming on those mouldering towers, sends back her retro- 
spective rays to light uj) the gh»ries of the past. 

As I sat watching the elfect of the declining daylight upon this 
Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the light, elegant, 
and voluptuous character prevalent throughotit its internal ar- 
chitecture, and to contrast it with the grand but gloomy solem- 
nity of the Cothic edifices reared by the 8j)aiiish conqu(>rors. 
Tlie very architecture thus bespeaks the o})posite and irrecon- 
cilable natures of the two warlike people who so long battled 
here for the mastery of the Peninsular. ]>y degi'ces T fell into 
a course of nuising uj)on the singular foitunes of tlie Aiabian or 
Moris(;o-Spaniards, whose whole existence is as a tale that is 
told, and certainly forms one of the most anomalous yet splendid 
e])isodes in history. Potent and durable as was trieir dominion, 
we scarcely know bow to call them. They were a nation with- 
out a legitimate co\intry or name. A nnnote wave of the gi'cat 
Arabian imnidation, cast upon the shores of Euro])e, they seem 
to have all tlui impetus of the first rush of the torrent. Their 
career of conquest, from thc^ rock of Gibraltar to the clifl's of the 
Pyrenees, was rapid and brilliant as the Moslem victories of 
Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not been checked on the 
plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, might have been over- 
run with the same facility as the em])ires of the East, and the 
Crescent at this day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and 
London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes 
of Asia and Africa, that formed this great irruption, gave up 



58 THE ALHAMBRA 

the Moslem principle of conquest, and sought to establish in 
Spain a peaceful and permanent dominion. As conquerors, 
their heroism was only equalled by their moderation ; and iu 
both, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they 
contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the 
Jand given them as they supposed by Allah, and strove to em- 
bellish it with everything that could administer to the happi- 
ness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in a 
system of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the 
arts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures, and 
commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled for its 
prosperity by any of the empires of Christendom ; and diligently 
drawing round them the graces and refinements which marked 
tlie Arabian empire in the East, at the time of its greatest civi- 
lization, they diffused the light of Oriental knowledge through 
the western regions of benighted Europe. 

The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Christian 
artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. The uni- 
versities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought 
by the pale student from other lands to acquaint himself with 
the sciences of the Arabs and the treasured lore of antiquity; 
the lovers of the gay science resorted to Cordova and Granada, 
to imbibe the poetry and music of the East ; and the steel-clad 
warriors of the North hastened thither to accomplish themselves 
in the graceful exercises and courteous usages of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of Cordova, 
the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of Granada, still bear 
inscriptions fondly boasting of the power and permanency of 
their dominion, can the boast be derided as arrogant and vain 1 
Generation after generation, century after century, passed away, 
and still they maintained possession of the land. A period 
elapsed longer than that which has passed since England was 
subjugated by the Norman Conqueror, and the descendants of 
Musa and Taric might as little anticipate being driven intn 



MOSLEM MONUMENTS 59 \ 

\ 

exile across the same straits, traversed by their triumphant i 

ancestors, as the descenihints of Rollo and William, and their i 

veteran peers, may dream of being driven back to the shores of ! 

Normandy. \ 

With all this, however, tlie Moslem empire in Spain was but ' 
a brilliant exotic, that took no permanent root in the soil it em-j^X< 

bellished. Severed from all their neighbors in the West by" '** 
impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by seas 

and deserts from their kindred of the East, the Morisco-Spaniavds ! 
were an isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged, 

though gallant and chivalric struggle for a foothold in a usurped ' 

They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The I 

Peninsula was the great battle-ground where the Gothic con- | 

querors of the North and the Moslem conquerors of the East ; 
met and strove for mastery ; and the fiery courage of the Arab 

was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valor ; 

of the Goth. : 

Never was the annihilation of the people more complete than 

tiiat of the Morisco- Spaniards. Where are they 1 Ask the \ 

shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exiled remnant i 
of their once powerful empire disappeared among the barbarians 
of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They have not even left 

a distinct name behind them, though for nearly eight centuries i 

they were a distinct people. The home of their adoption, and ! 

of their occupation for ages, refuses to acknowledge them, ex- j 

cept as invaders and usurpers. A few broken monuments are j 

all that remain to bear witness to their power and dominion, | 

as solitary rocks, left far in the interior, bear testimony to the j 

extent of some vast inundation. Such is the Alhambra ; — a ! 

Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land; an Oriental j 

palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the West ; an elegant mo j 

mento of a brave, intelligent, and graceful people, who con l 

auered, ruled, flourished, and passed away. i 



60 THE ALHAMBRA ^P^ ^ 

THE jfesiJITS' LIBRARY 

Since indulging in the foregoing reverie, my curiosity hag 
been aroused to know something of the princes who left behind 
them this monument of Oriental taste and magnificence, — and 
whose names still appear among the inscriptions on its walls. 
To gratify tliis curiosity, I have descended from this region of 
fancy and fable, where everything is liable to take an imagi- 
nary tint, and have carried my researches among the dusty 
tomes of the old Jesuits' Library in the University. This once 
boasted repository of erudition is now a mere shadow of its 
former self, having been stripped of its manuscripts and rarest 
works by the French, when masters of Granada ; still it con- 
tains, among many ponderous tomes of the Jesuit fathers, which 
the French were careful to leave behind, several curious tracts 
of Spanish literature; and, above all a number of those anti- 
quated, parchment-bound chronicles for which I have a particu- 
lar veneration. >— V" 

In this old libraiy I have passed many delightful hours of 
quiet, undisturbed, literary foraging ; for the keys of the doors 
and bookcases were kindly intrusted to me, and I was left 
alone, to rummage at my pleasure, — a rare indulgence in these 
sanctuaries of learning, which too often tantalize the thirsty 
student with the sight of sealed fountains of knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned a variety of facts con- 
cerning historical characters connected with the Alhambra, some 
of which I here subjoin, trusting they may prove acceptable to 
the reader. 

ALHAMAR, THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA 

The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a miracle 
of art, and had a tradition that the king who founded it dealt 



ALHAMAH 61 

m magic, or at least in alchemy, by means whereof he procured 
the immense sums of gold expended in its erection. A brief 
view of his reign will show the secret of his wealth. He is 
known in Arabian history as Muluimed Ibn-1-Ahmar ; but his 
name in general is written simply Alhamar, and was given to 
him, we are told, on account of his ruddy complexion.^ 

He was of the noble and opulent line of the Beni Nasar, or 
tribe of Nasar, and was born in Arjona, in the year of the He- 
^ra 592 (a.d. 1195). At his birth the astrologers, we are told, 
cast his horoscope according to Oriental custom, and pronounced 
it highly auspicious ; and a santon predicted for him a glorious 
career. No expense was spared in fitting him for the high des- 
tinies prognosticated. Before he attained the full years of man- 
hood, the famous battle of the Navas (or plains) of Tolosa 
shattered the Moorish empire, and eventually severed the Mos- 
lems of Spain from the Moslems of Africa. Factions soon arose 
among the former, headed by warlike chiefs ambitious of grasp- 
ing the sovereignty of the Peninsula. Alhamar became engaged 
in these wars ; he was the general and leader of the Beni Nasar, 
and, as such, he opposed and thwarted the ambition of Aben 
Hud, who had raised his standard among the warlike mountains 
of the Alpuxaras, and been proclaimed king of Murcia and 
Granada. Many conflicts took place between these warring 
chieftains ; Alhamar dispossessed his rival of several impor- 
tant places, and was proclaimed king of Jaen by his soldiery ; 
but he aspired to the sovereignty of the whole of Anda- 
lusia, for he was of a sanguine spirit and lofty ambition. His 
valor and generosity went hand in hand ; what he gained by 
the one he secured by the other ; and at the death of Aben Hud 
(a.d. 1238) he became sovereign of all the territories which 
owed allegiance to that powerful chief He made his formal 
entry into Granada in the same year, amid the enthusiastic 
shouts of the multitude, who hailed him as the only one cap- 
able of uniting the various factions which prevailed, and whicb 



62 THE ALHAMBRA 

threatened to lay the empire at the mercy of the Christian 
princes. 

Alhamar established his court in Granada ; he was the first of 
the illustrious line of Nasar that sat upon a throne. He took 
immediate measures to put his little kingdom in a posture of 
defence against the assaults to be expected from his Christian 
neighbors, repairing and strengthening the frontier posts and 
fortifying the capital. Not content with the provisions of the 
Moslem law, by which every man is made a soldier, he raised a 
regular army to garrison his strongholds, allowing every soldier 
stationed on the frontier a portion of land for the support of 
himself, his horse, and his family, — thus interesting him in the 
defence of the soil in which he had a property. These wise 
precautions were justified by events. The Christians, profiting 
by the dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly 
regaining their ancient territories. J^ames the Conqueror had 
subjected all Valencia, and Ferdinand the Saint sat down in 
person before Jaen, the bulwark of Granada. Alhamar ven- 
tured to oppose him in open field, but met with a signal defeat, 
and retired discomfited to his capital. Jaen still held out, and 
kept the enemy at bay during an entire winter, but Ferdinand 
swore not to raise his camp until he had gained possession of 
the place. Alhamar found it impossible to throw reinforce- 
ments into the besieged city ; he saw that its fall must be fol- 
lowed by the investment of his capital, and was conscious of 
the insufiiciency of his means to cope with the potent sovereign 
of Castile. Taking a sudden resolution, therefore, he repaired 
privately to the Christian camp, made his unexpected appearance 
in the presence of King Ferdinand, and frankly announced him- 
self as the king of Granada. " I come," said he, " confiding in 
your good faith, to put myself under your protection. Take all 
I possess and receive me as your vassal ; " so saying, he knelt 
and kissed the king's hand in token of allegiance. 

Ferdinand was won by this instance of confiding faith, and 



ALHAMAR 63 

determined not to be outdone iu generosity. He raised his late 
enemy from the eartli, embraced him as a friend, and, refusing 
the wealth he offered, left him sovereign of his dominions, under 
the feudal tenure of a yearly tribute, attendance at the Cortes 
as one of the nobles of the empire, and service in war with a 
certain number of horsemen. He moreover, conferred on him 
the lionor of knighthood, and armed him with his own hands. 

It was not long after this that Alliamar was called upon for 
his military services, to aid King Ferdinand in his famous siege 
of Seville. The Moorish king sallied forth with five hundred 
chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in the world 
knew better how to manage the steed ov wield the lance. It 
was a humiliating service, however, for they had to draw the 
sword against their brethren of the faith. 

Alhamar gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in 
this renowned conquest, but more true honor by the humanity 
which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages 
of war. When in 1248 the famous city of Seville surrendered to 
the Castilian monarch, Alhamar returned sad and full of care to 
his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that menaced the 
Moslem cause ; and uttered an ejaculation often used by him 
in moments of anxiety and trouble, — " How straitened and 
wretched would be our life, if our hope were not so spacious and 
extensive." {Que angoste y miserahile seria nuest7^a vida, sino 
fuera tan dilatada y espaciosa nuestra esperanzal) 

As he approached Granada on his return, he beheld arches of 
triumph which had been erected in honor of his martial exploits. 
The people thronged forth to see him with impatient joy, for 
his benignant rule had won all hearts. Wherever he passed he 
was hailed with acclamations as " El Ghalib ! " (the conquejor). 
Alhamar gave a melancholy shake of the head on hearing the 
appellatiottc " Wa le ghalih He Alah f^ (there is no conqueror 
but God) exclaimed he. From that time forward this exclama- 
tion became his motto, and the motto of his descendants, and 



64 THE ALHAMBRA 

appears to this day emblazoned on his escutcheons in the halls 
of the Alhambra. 

Alhamar had purchased peace by submission to the Christian 
yoke ; but he was conscious that, with elements so discordant 
and motives for hostility so deep and ancient, it could not be 
permanent. Acting, therefore, upon the old maxim, " Arm 
thyself in peace and clothe thyself in summer," he improved the 
present interval of tranquillity by fortifying his dominions, re- 
plenishing his arsenals, and promoting those useful arts which 
give wealth and real power. He confided the command of his 
various cities to such as had distinguished themselves by valor 
and prudence, and who seemed most acceptable to the people. 
He organized a vigilant police, and established rigid rules for the 
administration of justice. The poor and the distressed always 
found ready admission to his presence, and he attended person- 
ally to their assistance and redress. He erected hospitals for 
the blind, the aged, and infirm, and all those incapable of labor, 
and visited them frequently ; not on set days with pomp and 
form, so as to give time for everything to be put in order, and 
every abuse concealed, but suddenly, and unexpectedly, inform- 
ing himself, by actual observation and close inquiry, of the 
treatment of the sick, and the conduct of those appointed to 
administer to their relief. He founded schools and colleges, 
which he visited in the same manner, inspecting personally the 
instruction of the youth. He established butcheries and public 
ovens, that the people might be furnished with wholesome pro- 
visions at just and regular prices. He introduced abundant 
streams of water into the city, erecting baths and fountains, and 
constructing aqueducts and canals to irrigate and fertilize the 
Vega. By these means prosperity and abundance prevailed in 
this beautiful city ; its gates were thronged with commerce, and 
its Avarehouses filled Avith luxuries and merchandise of every 
clime and country. 

He moreover gave premiums and privileges to the best 



. .^^ ALHAMAR 65 

artisans ; improved the breed of horses and other domestic ani- 
nmls ; encouraged husbandry ; and increased the natural fertility 
of the soil twofold by his protection, making the lovely valleys 
of his kingdom to bloom like gardens. He fostered also the 
growth and fabrication of silk, until the looms of Granada sur- 
passed even those of Syria in the fineness and beauty of their 
productions. He moreover caused the mines of gold and silver 
and other' metals, fgund in the mountainous regions of his 
dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first king of 
Granada who struck money of gold and silver with his name, 
taking great care that the coins should be skilfully executed. 

It was towards the middle of the thirteenth century, and 
just after his return from the siege of Seville, that he com- 
menced the splendid palace of the Alhambra ; superintending 
the building of it in person ; mingling frequently among the 
artists and workmen, and directing tlieir labors. 

Though thus magnificent in his works and great in his enter- 
prises, he was simple in his person and moderate in his enjoy- 
ments. His dress was not merely void of splendor, but so 
plain as not to distinguish him from his subjects. His harem 
boasted but few^ beauties, and these he visited but seldom, 
though they were entertained with great magnificence. His 
wives were daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated 
by liim as friends and rational companions. What is more, 
he managed to make them live in friendship with one another. 
He passed much of his time in his gardens ; especially in those 
of the Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest plants 
and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here he delighted 
himself in reading histories, or in causing them to be read and 
related to him, and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, employed 
himself in the instruction of his three sons, for whom he had 
provided the most learned and Adrtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a tributary 
vassal to Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal to his word 



66 THE ALHAMBRA 

giving him repeated proofs of fidelity and attachment. When 
that renowned monarch died in Seville in 1254, Alhamar sent 
ambassadors to condole with his successor, Alonzo X., and 
with them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish cavaliers 
of distinguished rank, who were to attend round the royal bier 
during the funeral ceremonies, each bearing a lighted taper. 
This grand testimonial of respect was repeated by the Moslem 
monarch during the remainder of his liie on each anniversary 
of the death of King Ferdinand el Santo, when the hundre<l 
Moorish knights repaired from Granada to Seville, and took 
their stations with lighted tapers in the centre of the stimptuous 
cathedral round the cenotaph of tlie illustrious deceased. 

Alhamar retained his faculties and vigor to an advanced age. 
In his seventy- ninth year (a.d. 1272) he took the field on 
horseback, accompanied by the flower of his chivalry, to resist 
an invasion of his territories. )(A.s the army sallied forth from 
Granada, one of the principal adalides, or guides, who rode in 
the advance, accidentally broke his lance against the arch of the 
gate. The counsellors of the king, alarmed by this circum- 
stance, which was considered an evil omen, entreated him to 
ret.urn. Their supplications were in vain. The king persisted, 
and at noontide the omen, say the Moorish chroniclers, was 
fatally fulfilled. Alhamar was suddenly struck with illness, 
and had nearly fallen from his horse. He was placed on a 
litter, and borne back towards Granada, but his illness in- 
creased to such a degree that they were obliged to pitch his 
tent in the Vega. His physicians were filled with consternation, 
not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a few hours he 
died, vomiting blood and in violent convulsions. The Castilian 
prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., was by his side when 
he expired. His body was embalmed, enclosed in a silver coffin, 
and buried in the Alhambra in a sepulchre of precious marble, 
amidst the unfeigned lamentations of his subjects who bewailed 
him as a parent. 



ALHAMAR 67 

1 have said that he was the first of the illustrious line of 
ICasar that sat upon a throne. I may add that he was the 
founder of a brilliant kingdom which will ever be famous in 
history and romance as the last rallying-place of Moslem power 
and splendor in the Peninsula. Though his undertakings were 
vast, and his expenditures immense, yet his treasury was always 
full ; and this seeming contradiction gave rise to the story that 
he was versed in magic art, and possessed of the secret for 
transmuting baser metals into gold. Those who have attended 
to his domestic policy, as here set forth, will easily understand 
the natural magic and simple alchemy which made his ample 
treasury to overflow. 

^ Et porque era muy rubio llamaban lo los Moros Abenalhamar, 
que quiere decir bermejo . . . et porque los Moros lo llamaban 
Benalhamar que quiere decir bermejo tomo los senales bermejos, 
segun que los ovieron despues los lleyes de Granada. — Bleda, 
Cronica de Alfonso XL, P.I.C. 44. 



YUSEF ABUL HAGIG 

THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBRA 

To the foregoing particulars, concerning the Moslem princes , 
who once reigned in these halls, I shall add a brief notice of the 
monarch who completed and embellished the Alhambra. Yusef 
Abul Hagig (or, as it is sometimes written, Haxis) was another 
prince of the noble line of Nasar. He ascended the throne of 
Granada in the year of grace 1333, and is described by Moslem 
writers as having a noble presence, great bodily strength, and a 
fair complexion ; and the majesty of his countenance increased, 
say they, by suffering his beard to grow to a dignified length and 
dyeing it black. His manners were gentle, affable, and urbane ; 
he carried the benignity of his nature into warfare, prohibiting 



68 THE ALHAMBRA 

all wanton cruelty, and enjoining mercy and protection towards 
women and children, the aged and infirm, and all friars and 
other persons of holy and recluse life. But though he possessed 
the courage common to generous spirits, the bent of his genius 
was moreibr peace than war, and though repeatedly obliged by 
circumstances to take up arms, he was generally unfortunate. 

Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great cam- 
paign, in conjunction with the king of Morocco, against the 
kings of Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the memo- 
rable battle of Salado, which had nearly proved a death-blow to 
the Moslem power in Spain. 

Yusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, and now his 
character shone forth in its true lustre. He had an excellent 
memory, and had stored his mind with science and erudition ; 
his taste was altogether elegant and refined, and he was accounted 
the best poet of his time. Devoting himself to the instruction 
of his people and the improvement of their morals and manners, 
he established schools in all the villages, with simple and uni- 
form systems of education ; he obliged every hamlet of more 
than twelve houses to have a mosque, and purified the cere- 
monies of religion, and the festivals and popular amusements, 
from various abuses and indecorums which had crept into them. 
He attended vigilantly to the police of the city, establishing noc- 
turnal guards and patrols, and superintending all municipal con- 
cerns. His attention was also directed toward finishing the great 
architectural works commenced by his predecessors, and erecting 
others on his own plans. The Alhambra, which had been founded 
by the good Alhamar, was now completed. Yusef constructed 
the beautiful Gate of Justice, forming the grand entrance to the 
fortress, which he finished in 1348. He likewise adorned many 
of the courts and halls of the palace, as may be seen by the in- 
scriptions on the walls, in which his name repeatedly occurs. 
He built also the noble Alcazar or citadel of Malaga, now un- 
fortunately a mere mass of crumbling ruins, but which most 



YUSEF ABUL HAGIG 69 

probably exhibited in its interior similar elegance and magnifi- 
cence with the Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his time. 
The nobles of Granada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste 
of Yusef, soon filled the city of Granada with magnificent pal- 
aces ; the halls of which were paved with Mosaic, the walls and 
ceilings wrought in fretwork, and delicately gilded and painted 
with azure, vermilion, and other brilliant colors, or minutely in- 
laid with cedar and other precious woods ; specimens of which 
have survived, in all their lustre, the lapse of several centuries. 
Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets of water 
to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers, also, of wood 
or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, and covered with 
plates of metal that glittered in the sun. Such was the refined 
and delicate taste in architecture that prevailed among this ele- 
gant people ; insomuch that, to use the beautiful simile of an 
Arabian writer, " Granada, in the days of Yusef, was as a silver 
vase filled with emeralds and jacinths." 

One anecdote will be sufficient to show tlie magnanimity of 
this generous prince. The long truce which had succeeded the 
battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort of Yusef to re- 
new it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonzo XI. of Castile, 
took the field with great force, and laid siege to Gibraltar. 
Yusef reluctantly took ujd arms, and sent troops to the relief of 
the place. In the midst of his anxiety he received tidings that 
his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim to the plague. In- 
stead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Yusef called to 
mind the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched with 
a noble sorrow. " Alas ! " cried he, " the world has lost one 
of its most excellent princes; a sovereign who knew how to 
honor merit, whether in friend or foe ! " 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this 
magnanimity. According to their accounts, the Moorish cava- 
liers partook of the sentiment of their king, and put on mourn 



70 THE ALHAMBRA 

ing for the death of Alfonzo. Even those of Gibraltar, who 
bad been so closely invested, when they knew that the hostile 
monarch lay dead in his camp, determined among themselves 
that no hostile movement should be made against the Christians. 
The day on which the camp was broken up, and the army de- 
parted bearing the corpse of Alfonzo, the Moors issued in multi- 
tudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy, watchii^' 
the mournful pageant. The same reverence for the deceased 
was observed by all . the Moorish commanders on the frontiers, 
who suffered the funeral train to pass in safety, bearing the 
corpse of the Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to Seville.^ 

Yusef did not long survive the enemy he had so generously 
deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day praying in the 
royal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly from 
behind and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries of the king 
brought his guards and courtiers to his assistance. They found 
him weltering in his blood. He made some signs as if to speak, 
but his words were unintelligible. They bore him senseless to 
the royal apartments, where he expired almost immediately. 
The murderer was cut to pieces, and his limbs burnt in public 
to gratify the fury of the populace. 

The body of the king was interred in a superb sepulchre of 
white marble ; a long epitaph, in letters of gold upon an azure 
ground, recorded his virtues. '' Here lies a king and martyr, of 
an illustrious line, gentle, learned, and virtuous ; renowned for 
the graces of his person and his manners; whose clemency, 
piety, and benevolence were extolled throughout the kingdom of 
Granada. He -vas a great prince ; an illustrious captain ; a 
sharp sword of the Moslems ; a valiant standard-bearer among 
the most potent monarchs," &c. 

The mosque still exists which once resounded with the dying 
cries of Yusef, but the monument which recorded his virtues 
has long since disappeared. His name, however, remains Id- 
scribed among the delicate and graceful ornaments of the 



THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBERS 71 

A-lhainbra, and will be perpetuated in connection with this 
renowned pile, which it was his pride and delight to beautify. 

1 " Y Ids moros que estaban en la villa y Castillo de Gibraltar 
despues que sopieron que el Key Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron 
entresi que ninguno non fuesse osado de fazer ningun movimiento 
contra los Christianos, ni mover pelear contra ellos, estovieron 
todos quedos y dezian entre ellos qui aquel diamuriera un noble 
rey y Gran priucipe del mundo," 



THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBERS 

As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, my 
attention was, for the first time, attracted to a door in a remote 
gallery, communicating apparently with some part of the Al- 
hambra which I had not yet explored. I attempted to open it, 
but it was locked. I knocked, but no one answered, and the 
sound seemed to reverberate through empty chambers. Here 
then was a mystery. Here was the haunted wing of the castle. 
How was 1 to get at the dark secrets here shut up from the 
public eye 'i Should I come privately at night with lamp and 
sword, according to the prying custom of heroes of romance ; or 
should I endeavor to draw the secret from Pdpe the stuttering 
gardener; or the ingenuous Dolores, or the loquacious Mateo? 
Or should I go frankly and openly to Dame Antonia the chate- 
laine, and ask her all about it ? I chose the latter course, as 
being the simplest though the least romantic ; and found, some- 
what to my disappointment, that there was no mystery in the 
case. I was welcome to explore the apartment, and there was 
the key. 

Thus provided, I returned forthwith to the door. It opened, 
as I had surmised, to a range of vacant chambers ; but they 
were quite different from the rest of the palace. The archi- 
tecture, though rich and antiquated, was European. There 



72 THE ALHAMBRA 

was nothing Moorish about it. The first two rooms were lofty , 
the ceilings, broken in many places, were of cedar, deeply pan- 
elled and skilfully carved with fruits and flowers, intermingled 
with grotesque masks or faces. 

The walls had evidently in ancient times been hung with 
damask ; but now were naked, and scrawled over by that class 
of aspiring travellers who defile noble monuments with their 
worthless names. The windows, dismantled and open to wind 
and weatlier, looked out into a charming little secluded garden 
where an alabaster fountain sparkled among roses and myrtles^ 
and was surrounded by orange and citron trees, some of which 
flung their branches into the chambers. Beyond these rooms 
were two saloons, longer but less lofty, looking also into the 
garden. In the compartments of the panelled ceilings were 
baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted by no mean 
hand, and in tolerable preservation. The walls also had been 
painted in fresco in the Italian style, but the paintings were 
nearly obliterated ; the windows were in the same shattered 
state with those of the other chambers. This fanciful suite 
of rooms terminated in an open gallery with balustrades, run- 
ning at right angles along anotlier side of the garden. The 
whole apartment, so delicate and elegant in its decorations, so 
choice and sequestered in its situation along this retired little 
garden, and so different in architecture from the neighboring 
halls, awakened an interest in its history. I found on inquiry 
that it was an apartment fitted up by Italian artists in the early 
part of the last century, at the time when Philip V. and his 
second wife, the beautiful Elizabetta of Farnese, daughter of 
the Duke of Parma, were expected at the AUiambra. It was 
destined for the queen and the ladies of her train. One of 
the loftiest chambers had been her sleeping-room. A narrow 
staircase, now walled up, led up to a delightful belvidere, 
originally a mirador of the Moorish sultanas, communicating 
with tlie hnrem ; hut which was fitted up as a boudoir for i\\c. 



LINDARAXA 73 

fair Elizabetta, and still retains the name of el tocador de h 
Rei/na, or the queen's toilette. 

One window of the royal sleeping-room commanded a pros- 
pect of the Generalife and its embowered terraces ; another 
looked out into the little secluded garden I have mentioned, 
which was decidedly Moorish in its character, and also had its 
history. It was in fact the garden of Lindaraxa, so often 
mentioned in descriptions of the Alhambra, but who this 
Lindaraxa was I had never heard explained. A little research 
gave me the few particulars known about her. She was a 
Moorish beauty who flourished in the court of Muhamed the 
Left-Handed, and was the daughter of his loyal adherent, the 
alcayde of Malaga, who sheltered him in his city when driven 
from the throne. On regaining his crown, the alcayde was 
rewarded for his fidelity. His daughter had her apartment 
in the Alhambra, and was given by the king in marriage to 
Nasar, a young Cetimerien prince descended from Aben Hud 
the Just. Their espousals were doubtless celebrated in the 
royal palace, and their honeymoon may have passed among 
these very bowers.^ 

Four centuries had elapsed since the fair Lindaraxa passed 
away, yet how much of the fragile beauty of the scenes she 
inhabited remained ! The garden still bloomed in which she 
delighted ; the fountain still presented the crystal mirror in 
which her charms may once have been reflected ; the alabaster, 
it is true, had lost its whiteness ; the basin beneath, overrun 
with weeds, had become the lurking-place of the lizard, but 
there was something in the very decay that enhanced the in- 
terest of the scene, speaking as it did of that mutability, the 
irrevocable lot of man and all his works. 

The desolation too of these chambers, once the abode of the 
proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a more touching charm foi 
me than if I had beheld them in their pristine splendor, glit 
tering with the pageantry of a court. 



74 THE ALHAMBEA 

When I returned to my quarters, in the governor's apart 
ment, everything seemed tame and commonplace after the 
poetic region I had left. The thought suggested itself : Why 
could I not change my quarters to these vacant chambers 1 
That would indeed be living in the Alhambra, surrounded by 
its gardens and fountains, as in the time of the Moorish sover- 
eigns. I proposed the change to Dame Antonia and her family, 
and it occasioned vast surprise. They could not conceive any 
rational inducement for the choice of an apartment so forlorn, 
remote, and solitary. Dolores exclaimed at its frightful loneli- 
ness ; nothing but bats and owls flitting about, — and then 
a fox and wildcat kept in the vaults of the neighboring baths, 
and roamed about at night. The good Tia had more reason- 
able objections. The neighborhood was infested by vagrants ; 
gipsies swarmed in the caverns of the adjacent hills ; the pal- 
ace was ruinous and easy to be entered in many places ; the 
rumor of a stranger quartered alone in one of the remote and 
ruined apartments, out of the hearing of the rest of the in- 
habitants, might tempt unwelcome visitors in the night, espe- 
cially as foreigners were always supposed to be well stocked 
with money. I was not to be diverted from my humor, how- 
ever, and my will was law with those good people. So, call- 
ing in the assistance of a carpenter, and the eve officious 
Mateo Ximenes, the doors and windows were soon placed in a 
state of tolerable security, and the sleeping-room of the stately 
Elizabetta prepared for my reception. Mateo kindly volun- 
teered as a body-guard to sleep in my ante-chamber; but I 
did not think it worth while to put his valor to the proof. 

With all the hardihood I had assumed and all the pre- 
cautions I had taken, I must confess the first night passed in 
these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. I do not think it w^as 
so much the apprehension of dangers from without that affected 
me, as the character of the place itself, with all its strange 
associations : the deeds of violence committed there ; the tragi 



THE FIRST NIGHT 75 

cal ends of many of those who had once reigned there in splen- 
dor. As I passed beneath the fated halls of the tower of 
Comares on the way to my cliamber, I called to mind a quota- 
tion that used to thrill me in the days of boyhood : 

*' Fate sits on these dark battlements and frowns; 
And, as the portal opens to receive me, 
A voice in sullen echoes through the courts 
Tells of a nameless deed! " 

The whole family escorted me to my chamber, and took leave 
of me as of one engaged on a perilous enterprise ; and when I 
heard their retreating steps die away along the waste ante- 
chambers and echoing galleries; and turned the key of my 
door, I was reminded of those hobgoblin stories, where the hero 
is left to accomplish the adventure of an enchanted house. 

Even the thoughts of the fair Elizabetta and the beauties of 
her court, who had once graced these chambers, now, by a per- 
version of fancy, added to the gloom. Here was the scene 
of their transient gayety and loveliness; here were the very 
traces of their elegance and enjoyment ; but what and where 
were they? Dust and ashes ! tenants of the tomb ! phantoms 
of the memory ! 

A vague and indescribable awe was creeping over me. I 
would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of robbers awakened 
by the evening's conversation, but I felt it was something more 
unreal and absurd. The long-buried superstitions of the 
nursery were reviving, and asserting tlieir power over my 
imagination. Everything began to be affected by the working 
of my mind. The whispering of the wind among the citron- 
trees beneath my window had something sinister. I cast my 
eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa ; the groves presented a gulf 
of shadows ; the thickets, indistinct and ghastly shapes. I was 
glad to close the window, but my chamber itself became in- 
fected. There was a slight rustling noise overhead; a bat 
suddenly emerged from a broken panel of the ceiling, flitting 



70 TilK AtJllMi:h'.l 

.'iltiMit (lio room niitl iiMiwttrt. my Holilarv l.'imp ; niid mm i\\r 
rnl.t-riil liiitl mIimomI. lioiilrd my I'lwv willi Ium ixuMtdcMM wiii^-, llic 
gTol(VH((iu< riircM cMi veil in liii.',li rolii^l" in (luuM^tlar ('(Mliiif^, wliriuu^ 
li(^ liatl (MiiciiL'yd, himmikmI III mo|>(^ iittd mow ni^ \i\c. 

Iutii!iiii;j; mvMcir, and hall" timiliii^'^ ai Mum liMiipoiary wrakin'Ms 
I rt\'(olv(Ml to lira\'o it. out in [\\o Inui itpirit of [.\hi Iumo of tlii^ 
«nii-liaMl(nl lioMM(s HO, taking lump in liaixl, I nallii'd fort It to 
inako a. tonr oC i\\o palaco. Nolwilhataiidini;' oxiny mrntal 
(^^'(*^tion llio laHk wan n H(<V(M'(< ouo. I had lo travi^Mt' waslt^ 
halln and myHttM'ioUM pdl(M"i(\s, \\\\o\v Mm rayM of lla^ lamp 
oxt»uid<ul lail. M. hIumI diHlanco mound in(^ I walked, a^ it 
W(Mo, in a mt^r^^ lialo of liM'Id., walhul in l)y impcnrtiahk^ dark 
ncMM. 'Tho vaulliMl «^>n'i(lorM wow hh mviM'UH ; tlio ('(Mlin^H (»!' 
I ho hallM W(Mt^ IohI. in ^';loom. I riH'alh^d all thai had lu'tMi said 
of th(^ danjj;(M' iVom ildvrIop(^^H in Ihtw^ riMUotii and rnimul 
npai InicnlM. Mi«^;hl not .•loml^ va^'rant. lor ho lurkini^ holon^ or 
hohind mt*, in lln^ oiitor darkn(^H.s'/ My own .shadow, cast, upon 
tin* wall, ht^^an li> diaLurlj uu\ 'V\\o imMioos i^i' my own l\>ol 
Mt(*pM alon^' tho corridoi'M nuulo mo paust- and look around. I 
was trn.v»M'Min;k^' himmu^h fnuij;ht with dinmal rocollt'dions. Ono 
dark paHMan"«^ h^l down to lh(> moMipu^ w1um"(^ VuMt^t", th(> Moor 
inh nmnarrh, i\\o lluiMluM- of tlu^ Alhamhra, had hcon hasoly 
murd(»rtul. In auothtM" plact^ 1 trod l\\o ^alhMy wIum(^ an 
oihrr nuMUirch ha»l Iu^(Mi atrmdc dt>wn hy tho poniaul ol' a 
n^lativi^ whom ht^ had thwarted in his lov(\ 

A low mnrnuiriiif;' Himud, as of stitliMl voif(\s and clank inj; 
chains, now rcavhiMl \\u\ It MtM>m(ul ti» come from tho Hall 
o\' {\\o AluMii'«^rraf;(\s. 1 km>w it tt> hv [\\o rush oi' \\i\{ov 
Ihrou^di HuhlerrauoMU oliamudH, but. it. stauuhMl stnuj^udy in tho 
nifi'ht, and riMuiuihHl mo oi' \\\o dismal stories to whii-h it had 
)j;iv(Mi risiv 

Si>on, howovor, luy oar \va« assaih^d hy sounds too fearfully 
n\al to lu^ tlu^ wt>rk of la n(\v. As I was crossing: tlio Hall of 
Amhassadors, low m»>ans and brokt'u ejaculations roso, aa it 



/•///■; A I. HAM nil A in Moo.yuaiiT 77 

ucit^ (nun htiicalh my ('»Hit. I paust'd and listened. They 
then apjiearv'd to he ontsicU^ of the tower — tlien ai;ain within. 
Tiien hiokc lorth imw line's as of an animal — then stilled 
shrieks and inarticnhitt^ ra\'in^\s. ileard in tiial (h^ad honr and 
siu;nidar plaee, the etVeet was tiirillin^. I had no ch'siro for 
fnrthiM- ]»eranihniati(>n ; but returned to my ehandun- Avith 
intinit.ely more alanily than 1 iiad sallied forth, and <lre\v my 
breath more freely when once more within its walls and 
tht> door bolted behind me. When 1 awoUe in tlu^ moridn^, 
with the sun shinini;' in at my window and ii^ldini;' up every 
j>artol"the building with his eheerlid and truth-telling beania, 
I eould scarcely recall liu^ shadows and laiicies eonjiu'ed up by 
th(^ ^ioom of the precedin^L!: ni^dd. ; or believe^ that, tlie scenes 
around me, so naked and apparent, eoidd liav(^ been clollied 
with such imaginary horrors. 

Still, the dismal howlin,L;s and ejaculations I had heard were 
not ideal ; they were soon accounted foi', however, bv my hand- 
maid holores: Ihmii^' tlu^ raA'inn's of a poor maniac, a. brother 
of her aunt, who was subject to violent paioxysms, durin«» 
wliicli he wascontined in a. vaulted room beneath tlu^ Hall of 
Ambassadors. 

In the couise of a few evenin^^s a thorou^',li clian^(> took place 
in the scene and its associations. The moon, which when 1 
took possession of my new apartments was invisible, /gradually 
gained eacii «'venin;;' upon the darkness of the ui^ht, and at 
l(Mi«i;th rolled in full splendor abovt^ tlu^ towers, pourin^? a Hood 
of tempered li^^ht into ovovy court and hall. The {L!:arden 
beneath my window, lu^fore wrapp(^d in <jjloom, was j^^cMitly 
lighted up ; Die (Man^c^ and citniii trees were tipped with sil- 
ver ; the fouidain sparkled in tlit^ moonbeams, and even the 
blush of tlu^ rose was faintly visible. 

I now felt the poetie merit of the Arabic inscription on the 
walls, - " I Tow beaut(M)us is this ;[^ard(Mi; where the llowers of 
the earth vie with tlic stars of iu'aven. What can <'ompar€ 



78 THE alhambra 

with the vase of yon alabaster fountain filled with crystal water! 
nothing but the moon in her fulness, shining in the midst of an 
unclouded sky ! " 

On such heavenly nights I would sit for hours at my window 
inhaling the sweetness of the garden, and musing on the check- 
ered fortunes of those whose history was dimly shadowed out in 
the elegant memorials around. Sometimes, when all was quiet, 
and the clock from the distant cathedral of Granada struck the 
midnight hour, I have sallied out on another tour and wandered 
over the whole building ; but how different from my first tour .• 
No longer dark and mysterious; no longer peopled with shadowy 
foes ; no longer recalling scenes of violence and murder j all was 
open, spacious, beautiful ; everything called up pleasing and 
romantic fancies ; Lindaraxa once more walked in her garden ; 
the gay chivalry of Moslem Granada once more glittered about 
tlie Court of Lions ! Who can do justice to a moonlight night 
in such a place 1 The temperature of a summer midnight in 
Andalusia is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a purer 
atmosphere ; we feel a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, 
an elasticity of frame, which render mere existence happiness. 
But when moonlight is added to all this, the effect is like en- 
chantment. Under its plastic sway the Alhambra seems to 
regain its pristine glories. Every rent and chasm of time ; every 
mouklering tint and weather-stain is gone ; tlie marble resumes 
its original whiteness ; the long colonnades brighten in the moon- 
beams ; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance, — 
we tread the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale ! 

What a delight, at such a time, to ascend to the little airy 
pavilion of the queen's toilet {el tocador de ia reyna), which, 
like a bird-cage, overhangs the valley of the Darro, and gaze 
from its light arcades upon the moonlight prospect ! To the 
right, the swelling mountains of the Sierra Nevada, robbed of 
their ruggedness and softened into a fairy land, with their snowy 
summits gleaming like silver clouds against the deep blue sky. 



PANORAMA FROM THE TOWER OF COMARES^ 79 

A.nd then to lean over the parapet of the Tocador and gaze down 
upon Granada and the Albaycin spread out like a map below ; 
all buried in deep repose ; the white palaces and convents sleep- 
ing in the moonshine, and beyond all these the vapory Vega 
fading away like a dreamland in the distance. 

Sometimes the faint click of castanets rises from the Alameda, 
where some gay Andalusians are dancing away the summer 
night. Sometimes the dubious tones of a guitar and the notes 
of an amorous voice, tell perchance the whereabout of some 
moonstruck lover serenading his lady's window. 

Such is a faint picture of the moonlight nights I have passed 
loitering about the courts and halls and balconies of this most 
suggestive pile; "feeding my fancy with sugared suppositions," 
and enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal 
away existence in a southern climate ; so that it has been al- 
most morning before I have retired to bed, and been lulled to 
sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. 

lUna de las cosas en que tienen precisa intervencion los Eeyes 
Moros as en el matrimonio de sus grandes : de aqiii nace que todos 
los seHores llegadas k la persona real si casan en palacio, y siempre 
havo su quarto destinado para esta ceremonia. 

One of the things in which the Moorish kings interfered was in 
the marriage of their nobles : hence it came that all the senors 
attached to the royal person were married in the palace ; and there 
was always a chamber destined for tlie ceremoiiy. — Faseos por 
Granada^ Paseo XXL 



PANORAMA FROM THE TOWER OF COMARES 

It is a serene and beautiful morning: the sun has not gained 
sufficient power to destroy the freshness of the night. What a 
morning to mount to the summit of the Tower of Comares, and 
take a bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs ! 

Come then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my footsteps 



80* THE ALHAMBRA 

into this vestibule, ornamented with rich tracery, which opena 
into the Hall of Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, 
however, but turn to this small door opening into the wall. 
Have a care ! here are steep w^inding steps and but scanty 
light ; yet up this narrow, obscure, and spiral staircase, tlie 
proud monarclis of Granada and their queens have often as- 
cended to the battlements to watch the approach of invading 
armies, cu' gaze w^th anxious hearts on the battles in the Vega. 

At Icngtli we liave reached the terraced roof, and may take 
breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over the splen- 
did panorama of city and country ; of rocky mountain, verdant 
valley, and fertile plain ; of castle, cnthedral, JMoorish towers, 
and Gothic domes, crumbling ruins, and blooming groves. Let 
us approach the battlements, and cast our eyes immediately below. 
See, on this sitle we have the whole plain of the Alhambra laid 
open to us, ami can look down into its courts and gardens. At 
the foot of the tower is the Court of the Alberca, wdth its great 
tank or fishpool, bordered with flowers ; and yonder is the Court 
of Lions, with its famous fountain, and its light Moorish arcades ; 
and in the centre of the pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, 
buried in the lieart of the building, \\\t\\ its roses and citrons 
and shrubbery of emerald green. 

That belt of battlements, studded with square towers, strag- 
gling round the whole brow of tlie hill, is the outer boundary 
of the fortress. Some' of the towers, you may perceive, are in 
ruins, and their massive fragments buried among vines, fig- 
trees, and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy 
height ; the very foundations of the tower rise above the groves 
of tlie steep hill-side. And see ! a long fissure in the massive 
walls shows that the tower has been rent b)' some of the earth- 
quakes which from time to time have thrown Granada into 
consternation ; and which, sooner or later, must reduce this 
crumbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow glen 



riiK VAiJj':y or 'riii: nMiiio «^I 

Oclow us, wliicli <i:r:i(]»i.MlIy \vi(l(^iiR rh it opens Inmi tlio. iiio\iiit;iiiiH, 
IH tlie valley of tlu^ J)arr<) ; you hcc tlic, liUh^ iiv(>r vviiidiii^^ ilh 
way under cnihovvcMcd ((Mtuci'h, and anionjjj on-luirdH and llcnvcr- 
jjjardcuH, It is a Hlrcani (anious in old tinu^H for yicidiu]!;: ^old, 
and itH Hands arc still sifted (xteasionally, in searcli of the jnc- 
cious ore. Sonu^ of those whiter ])aAiIions, which \w\t. and tlKMC 
glcauj IVoni anioui;- proves and vineyards, were rustic reticats of 
the ]\'loors, to enjoy tiie rerreshnieid-s of their ^^ardens. Well 
liave they been conijjared hy one of th(Mr iioetstoK(> many ])earlH 
set in a bed of emeralds. 

The airy palace, with its tall wliite lowers and lonj:: arcades, 
which breasts yon mountain, anion*; ])om|)ous ^n'oves and han«jf- 
ini; gardens, is the CJeiieralife, a summer |»alace of the Moorish 
kin,i;s, to which tliey n'sorted diirin^^ tiie sultry montlis to <'njoy 
a, still more breezy re<;ion than that of the Alhambia. The 
naked summit of tlie hei<;ht above it, where you behold some 
shaju'lcss ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of tlu^ Moor, so 
calle(l from having been a retreat of tlu^ unfortunate IJoabdil 
<lurin<,'^ the time of an iusuirectioii, when^ h<^ seated himself, 
and h)ok(Ml down moundully ujxtn his rebellious city. 

A nuirmuriui^ sound of water now and Ihen rises from the 
valley. It is from the a<|ucduct of yon Moorish mill, nearly at 
th(^ foot of the hill. 'J'h«'. avenue of trees beyond is the Ala- 
meda, alon^^ the bank of tlu^ Darro ; n favorite resort in evcn- 
ini^^s, and a, rendezvous of lovers in the summer in<j^lits, when 
the jj^uitar may \n\ heard at a, lat(^ hour from the benches alon^ 
its walks. At )»reseid, you scic noia^ but a few loiterinu; moidvS 
there, and a, j^roup of wnter-earriers. The latter are burdened 
with wafer jars of ancient Oriculal construction, such as were 
used by tlii^ Moors. They have been lilled at tla^ cold and lim- 
pid Bpriuf? called the fountain of Avellanos. Yon mountain 
path leads to tli(^ fountain, a favorites resort of Moslems as well 
as (/hristians; for this is said to be the Atlinamar (Aymi-1- 
adanuir), the "Fountain of Tc^irs," mentioned by Ibii llatuta 



82 THE ALHAMBRA 

the traveller, and celebrated iu the histories and romances of 
the IMoors. 

You start ! 'tis nothing but a hawk that we have frightened 
from his nest. This old tower is a complete breeding-place for 
vagrant birds ; the swallow and martlet abound in every chink 
and cranny, and circle about it the whole day long ; while at 
night, when all other birds have gone to rest, the moping owl 
comes out of its lurking-place, and utters its boding cry froir 
tlie battlements. See how the hawk we have dislodged sweeps 
away below us, skimming over the tops of the trees, and sailing 
up to the ruins above the Generalife ! 

I see you raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile of 
mountains, shining like a white summer cloud in the blue sky. 
It is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the 
source of her cooling breezes and perpetual verdure ; of her 
gushing fountains and perennial streams. It is this glorious 
pile of mountains which gives to Granada that combination of 
delights so rare in a southern city, — the fresh vegetation and 
temperate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifying ardor 
of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern sky. It 
is this aerial treasuiy of snow, which, melting in proportion to 
the increase of the summer heat, sends down rivulets and streams 
through every glen and gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing em- 
erald verdui'e and fertility throughout a chain of happy and 
sequestered valleys. 

Those mountains may be well called the glory of Granada. 
They dominate the wliole extent of Andalusia, and may be seen 
from its most distant parts. The muleteer hails them, as he 
views their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the plain ; and 
the Spanish mariner on the deck of his bark, far, far off on the 
bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches them w^ith a pensive 
eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants, in low voice, 
some old romance about the Moors. 

See to the south at the foot of those mountains a line of arid 



SANTA FE 83 

hills, down wliich a long train of mules is slowly moving. Here 
was the closing scene of Moslem domination. From the summit 
of one of tliose liills the unfortunate Boabdil cast b.'ick his hist 
look upon (Iranada, and gave vent to the a.i^ony of liis soul. It 
is the spot famous in song and story, " The last sigh of the 
Moor." . 

Further this way these arid hills slope down into the luxu- 
rious Vega, from which he had just emerged : a blooming wilder- 
ness of grove iuid garden, and teeming orcliivrd, with th(>. Xniil 
winding through it in silver links, and feiiding innumerable rills; 
which, conducted through ancient Moorish channels, maintiiin 
the landscape in perpetual verdure. Here were the beloved 
bovvers aiid gardens, and rural pavilions, for which the unfortu- 
nate Moors fbught with such desperate valor. The very hovels 
and rude granges, now inhabited liy boors, show, by the remains 
of arabesques and other tasteful decoration, that they were 
elegant residences in the days of the Moslems. Behold, in the 
very centre of this eventful i»la,in, a place which in a manner 
links the history of the Old World with that of the New. Yon 
line of walls and towers gleaming in the morning sun, is the 
city of Santa Fc, built by the Catholic sovereigns during the 
siege of Granada, after a conllagration had destroyed their camp. 
It was to these walls Columbus was called back by the heroic 
queen, and within them the treaty was concludecl which led to 
the discovery of the Western World. Behind yon promontory 
to the west is the bridge of Pinos, renowned for many a bloody 
fight between Moors and Christians. At this bridge the mes- 
senger overtook Columbus when, despairing of success with the 
Spanish sovereigns, he was departing to carry his project of dis- 
covery to the court of France. 

Above the bridge a range of mountains bounds the Vega to 
the west, — the ancient barrier between Granada and the Chris- 
tian territories. Among their heights you may still discern 
warrior towns ; their gray walls and battlements seeming of a 



84 THE ALHAMBRa 

piece with the rocks on which they are built. Here and there 
a solitary atalaya, or watchtower, perched on a mountain peak, 
looks down as it were from the sky into the valley on either 
side. How often have these atalayas given notice, by fire at 
night or smoke by day, of an approaching foe ! It was down a 
cragged defile of these mountains, called the Pass of Lope, that 
the Christian armies descended into the Vega. Round the base 
of yon gray and naked mountain (the mountain of Elvira), stretch- 
ing its bold rocky promontory into the bosom of the plain, the 
invading squadrons would come bursting into view, with flaunt- 
ing banners and clangor of drum and trumpet. 

Five hundred years have elapsed since Ismael ben Ferrag, a 
Moorish king of Granada, beheld from this very tower an in- 
vasion of the kind, and an insulting ravage of the Vega ; on 
which occasion he displayed an instance of chivalrous magna- 
nimity, often witnessed in the Moslem princes; "whose his- 
tory," says an Arabian writer, "abounds in generous actions and 
noble deeds that will last through all succeeding ages, and live 
forever in the memory of man." — But let us sit down on this 
parapet, and I will relate the anecdote. 

It was in the year of Grace 1319, that Ismael ben Ferrag 
beheld from this tower a Christian camp whitening the skirts 
of yon mountain of Elvira. The royal princes, Don Juan and 
Don Pedro, regents of Castile during the minority of Alphonso 
XI., had already laid waste the country from Alcaudete to 
Alcala la Real, capturing the castle of Illora, and setting fire 
to its suburbs, and they now carried their insulting ravages to 
the very gates of Granada, defying the king to sally forth and 
give them battle. 

Ismael, though a young and intrepid prince, hesitated to 
accept the challenge. He had not sufficient force at hand, 
and awaited the arrival of troops summoned from the neighbor- 
ing towns. The Christian princes, mistaking his motives, gave 
up all hope of drawing him forth, and having glutted themselves 



ISMAEL BEN FERRAG 85 

with ravage, struck their tents and began their homeward march. 
Don Pedro led the van, and Don Juan brought up the rear, but 
their march was confused and irregular, the army being greatlj' 
encumbered by the spoils and captives they had taken. 

By this time King Israael had received his expected resources, 
and putting them under the command of Osmyn, one of the 
bravest of his generals, sent them forth in hot pursuit of the en- 
emy. The Christians were overtaken in the defiles of the moun- 
tains. A panic seized them; they were completely routed, 
and driven with great slaughter across the borders. Both of 
the princes lost their lives. The body of Don Pedro was 
carried off by his soldiers, but that of Don Juan was lost in 
the darkness of the night. His son wrote to tlie Moorish king, 
entreating that the body of his father might be sought and 
honorably treated. Ismael forgot in a moment that Don Juan 
was an enemy, who had carried ravage and insult to the very 
gate of his capital ; he only thought of him as a gallant cavalier 
and a royal prince. By his command diligent search was made 
for the body. It was found in a barranco and brought to 
Granada. There Ismael caused it to be laid out in state on a 
lofty bier, surrounded by torches and tapers, in one of these 
halls of the Alhambra. Osmyn and other of the noblest cava- 
liers were appointed as a guard of honor, and the Christian cap- 
tives were assembled to pray around it. 

In the mea'ntime, Ismael wrote to the son of Prince Juan to 
send a convoy for the body, assuring him it should be faithfully 
delivered up. In due time, a band of Christian cavaliers arrived 
for the purpose. They were honorably received and entertained 
by Ismael, and, on their departure with the body, the guard of 
honor of Moslem cavaliers escorted the funeral train to the frontier. 

But enough ; — the sun is high above the mountains, and 
pours his full fervor on our heads. Already the terraced roof 
is hot beneath our feet ; let us abandon it, and refresh ourselves 
under the Arcades by the Fountain of the Lions. 



86 THE ALU A MB R A 



THE TRUANT 

We have had a scene of a petty tribulation in the Alhamhra, 
<-vhich has thrown a cloud over the sunny countenance of 
Dolores. Tliis little damsel has a female passion for pets of all 
kinds ; and from the superabundant kindness of her (lisposition 
one of the ruined courts of the Alhambra is thronged with her 
favorites. A stately peacock and his hen seem to hold regal 
sway here, over pompous turkeys, querulous guinisa- fowls, and 
a rabble rout of common cocks and hens. The great deliglit of 
Dolores, however, has for some time past been centred in a 
youthful pair of pigeons, who have lately entered into the holy 
state of wedlock, and even supplanted a tortoise-shell cat and 
kittens in her affection. 

As a tenement for them wherein to commence housekeeping, 
she had fitted up a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen, the 
window of which looked into one of the quiet Moorish courts. 
Here they lived in happy ignorance of any world beyond the 
court and its sunny roofs. Never had they aspired to soar 
above the battlements, or to mount to the summit of the 
towers. Their virtuous union was at length crowned by two 
spotless and milk-white eggs, to the great joy of their cherishing 
little mistress. Nothing could be more praiseworthy than the 
conduct of the young married folks on this interesting occasion. 
They took turns to sit upon the nest until the eggs were 
hatched, and while their callow progeny required warmth and 
shelter; — wdiile one thus stayed at home, the other foraged 
abroad for food, and brought home abundant supplies. 

This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met with a re- 
verse. Early this morning, as Dolores was feeding the male 
pigeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at the great world. 
Opening a window, therefore, which looks down upon the 
valley of the Darro, she launched him at once beyond the walls 



THE TRUANT 87 

of the Alhambra. For the first time in his life the astonished 
bird had to try the full vigor of his wings. He swept down 
into the valley, and then rising upwards with a surge, soared 
almost to the clouds. Never before had he risen to such a 
height, or experienced such delight in flying ; and, like a young 
spendthrift just come to his estate, he seemed ^siddy with excess 
of liberty, and with the boundless field of action suddenly opened 
to him. For the whole day he has been circling about in 
capricious flights, from tower to tower, and tree to tree. 
Every attempt has been vain to lure him back by scattering 
grain upon the roofs ; he seems to have lost all thought of 
home, of his tender helpmate, and his callow young. To add to 
the anxiety of Dolores, he has been joined by two palomas 
ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose instinct it is to entice wan- 
dering pigeons to their own dove-cotes. The fugitive, like many 
other thouglitless youtlis on their first launching upon the world, 
seems quite fascinated with these knowing but graceless com- 
panions, who have undertaken to show him life, and introduce 
him to society. He has been soaring with them over all the 
roofs and steeples of Granada. A thunder-storm has passed 
over the city, but he has not sought his home ; night has 
closed in, and still he comes not. To deepen the pathos of the 
affair, the female pigeon, after remaining several hours on the 
nest without being relieved, at length went forth to seek her 
i:^ecreaiifc mate ; but stayed away so long that the young ones 
perished for want of the warmth and shelter of the parent 
bosom. At a late hour in the evening, word was brought to 
Dolores that the truant bird had been seen upon the towers of 
the Generalife. Now it happens that the AchnUiutrador of 
that ancient palace has likewise a dove-cote, amon^ the inmates 
of which are said to be two or three of these ini^igling birds, 
the terror of all neighboring pigeon-fanciers. Dolores immedi- 
ately concluded tliat the two feathered sharpers who had been 
?een with her fugitive were these bloods of the Generalife. A 



88 O TSE ALHAMBRA ' - 

council of war was forthwith held in the chambei of Tia 
Antonia. The Generalife is a distinct jurisdiction from the 
Alhambra, and of course some pitrictilio, if not jealousy, exists 
between their custodians. It was determined, therefore, to send 
P^pe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, as ambassador to the 
Administrador, requesting that if such fugitive should be found 
in his dominions, he might be given up as a subject of the 
Alhambra. P^pe departed accordingly, on his diplomatic expe- 
dition, through the moonlit groves and avenues, but returned in 
an hour with the afflicting intelligence that no such bird was 
to be found in the dove-cote of the Generalife. The Admin- 
istrador, however, pledged his sovereign word that if such 
vagrant should appear there, even at midnight, he should be 
instantly arrested and sent back prisoner to his little black-eyed 
mistress. 

Thus stands the melancholy affair which has occasioned 
much distress throughout the palace, and has sent the incon- 
solable Dolores to a sleepless pillow. 

"Sorrow endureth for a night," says the proverb, "but 

joy cometh in the morning." The first object that met my 
eyes, on leaving my room this morning, was Dolores, with the 
truant pigeon in her hands, and her eyes sparkling with joy. 
He had appeared at an early hour on the battlements, hovering 
shyly about from roof to roof, but at length entered the win- 
dow, and surrendered himself prisoner. He gained little credit, 
however, by his return ; for the ravenous manner in which he 
devoured the food set before him showed that, like the prodigal 
son, he had been driven home by sheer famine. Dolores up- 
braided him for his faithless conduct, calling him all manner 
of vagrant names, though, womanlike, she fondled him at the 
same time to her bosom and covered him with kisses. I ob- 
served, however, that she had taken care to clip his wings tG 
prevent all future soarings ; a precaution which I mention for 
the benefit of all those who have truant lovers or wandering 

# 



THE BALCONY 89 

nusbands. More than one valuable moral might be drawn from 
the story of Dolores and her pigeon. 



THE BALCONY 

I HAVE spoken of a balcony of the central window of the 
Hall of Ambassadors. It served as a kind of observatory, 
where I used often to take my seat, and consider not merely the 
heaven above but the earth beneath. Besides the magnificent 
prospect which it commanded of mountain, valley, and vega, 
there was a little busy scene of human life laid open to inspec- 
tion immediately below. At the foot of the hill was an alameda, 
or public walk, which, though not so fashionable as the more 
modern and splendid paseo of the Xenil, still boasted a varied 
and picturesque concourse. Hither resorted the small gentry 
of the suburbs, together with priests and friars, who walked 
for appetite and digestion; majos and majas, the beaux and 
belles of the lower classes, in their Andalusian dresses ; swagger- 
ing contrabandistas, and sometimes half-muffled and mysterious 
loungers of the higher ranks, on some secret assignation. 
" It was a moving picture of Spanish life and character, whic^ 
I delighted to study ; and as the astronomer has his grand tele- 
scope with which to sweep the skies, and, as it were, bring the 
stars nearer for his inspection, so I had a smaller one, of pocket 
size, for the use of my observatory, with which I could* sweep 
the regions below, and bring the countenances of the motley 
groups so close as almost, at times, to make me think I could 
divine their conversation by the play and expression of their 
features. I was thus, in a manner, an invisible observer, and, 
without quitting my solitude, could throw myself in an instant 
into the midst of society, — a rare advantage to one of some- 
what shy and quiet habits, and fond, like myself, of observing 
the drama of life without becoming an actor in the scene. 



90 THE ALUAMliliA 

'V\w\T was ji considorablc suburb lyinii: boli)\v the Allianibra, 
lillini;- {\\c narrow gors^o of the valley, and oxtonding up tho 
opposite hill ol' the Albayein. INlany of the houses were built 
in the Moorish style, round })atios, or eoiu'ts, cooKmI by fountanis 
and open to the sky ; and as the inhabitants j)assed nuieh of 
tluMr time in these I'ourts, and on the terrared roots dui'in<;" the 
sununcM- season, it follows that many a i;lanee at their domestic 
life mi^ht W obtained by an aerial speetator like myself, who 
could look down tui them from the clouds. 

T enji\ved in some ilcgree the advantai]:es of the student in 
th(> famous oM Spanish stiiry, who beheld all Madrid unroofed 
for his inspection ; and my ij^ossiping squire, Mateo Ximenes, 
otlieiated tHv-asionally as my Asmodeus, ti> give nie ancH'dotes of 
the dithM(>nt mansi()ns and their inhabitants. 

I preferred, liowever, to form con^jectural histories for myself, 
and thus windd sit for hours, weaving, from casual incidenta 
and indications passing under my eye, a whole tissue of schemes, 
intrigues, and occupations i>f the busy mortals below. There 
was scarc(^ a pretty face or a striking figure that 1 daily saw, 
about which 1 had not thus grailually tVauunl a dramatic stt)ry, 
though some o'i my characters would (H'casionally act in direct 
opposition to tlu^ part assigned thiMU, and ilisci^uc'crt the wlude 
drama. luHNMiuoitring one day with my glass the streets o^ the 
Albayein, 1 In^hcKl the procession o^ a novii'c about io take 
the veil ; and nMuarked several circumstanctvs which excited 
Uie strongest sym])athy in the fate o( tiie youtht'ul being thus 
about to be consigned to a living tomb. .1 ascertained to my 
satist'action that she was beautiful, and, from the paleness of 
ber cheek, that she was a victim rather than a votary. She 
was arrayed in bridal garments, and decked with .a chaplet of 
white tli>wers, but her heart evidently revolted at this mockery 
of a spiritual union, anil yearned after its earthly loves. A tall 
stern-looking man walkcil near her in the procession : it was, 
of ci>ursc, tlu^ tyrannical father, who, from some bigoted or 



TAKING THE VEIL 91 

flonlid motivo, Imd coMipdhMl tlii.s HHcrifico, Amid tlio rrowd 
wuM Ji (l;irk liaiidsoiiic youth, in Aiid;dii«i;iu ii^Mrh, wlio WH'incd 
to i\\ on licr :in cyi! of agony. It wuh doubtless the H(icivt 
l()V(>r fVoni wiioni sIk^ wjis forovcr to b(^. scpanitcd. My indii^jna- 
tion ros(' us I note*! tlic; iiiali^niMiit expression paiidj'd on llu! 
countenances of the uttendaiit inoid<s an<l friars. Tlin procoHsion 
iirri\'ed ;it tlu^ cliapel of the. convent ; tlie sun ;^de;uned for the 
last time upon the clia|)let of tii(! poor novic(\ as she ('rossed 
the fatal thresliold and disapi)oarc(l within the buildiiiii;. 'i'lio 
thron<^ pounul in with cowl, and cross, and niinsticlsy ; tlics 
lover i)aused for a moment at the door. I could divine th(5 
tumult of his feiilings ; but he masteicd them, and entered. 
There, was a loni; iid,erval. J picture(l to myself the scene j)ass- 
in<j^ within : the j)oor novice, despoiled of her transicid- linery, 
and clothed in the; ('onvcntual pjarb ; tlu; })ri(lal chaplct taken 
from her brow, and her beautifid head shorn of its lon^^ silken 
tresses. T heard her uuirmur the irrevocable vow. I saw her 
extended on a bier ; the death-j)all Ri)read over lier ; tlie funeral 
s(>rvice jH'.rformed that i)roclaimed licr dead to the world .; her 
sij;hs wen; drowm^d in the d(!ej) tones of the or/^an, and the 
plaintive requi(;ni of the nuns ; th(>. father looked on, nmiioved, 
without a tear; the lover — no — my imajj^iiiation rel'nscd 1o 
portray the anguish of the lover — there the pic-ture remained 
a l)lank. 

After a time the throng again ])oured forth, and disix'ised 
various ways, to enjoy the light of the sun and mingle with tiie 
stirring scenes of life; but the victim, with her bridal chaplct, 
was no longer there. 'J'lu^ door of the convent closed that sev- 
ered her from the world forever. I saw i\w. lather and the 
lover issue forth ; they were in earnest conversation. The 
latter was v(!hement in his gesticulations; I exjx'ctcd some 
violent t(U7nination to my drama; but an angb^ of a building 
int(>rfered and (dosed the scene. My eye aftcu'wards was fre- 
quejitly turned to that (Convent with ])ainful iidcicst. I re 



92 THE ALHAMBRA 

marked late at night a solitary light twinkling from a remote 
lattice of one of its towers. " There," said I, " the unhappy 
mm sits weeping in her cell, while perhaps her lover paces the 
street below in unavailing anguish." 

— The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and de- 
stroyed in an instant the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With his 
usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the scene, which 
put my fictions all to flight. The heroine of my romance was 
neither young nor handsome; she had no lover; she had 
entered the convent of her own free will, as a respectable 
asylum, and was one of the most cheerful residents within its 
walls. 

It was some little while before I could forgive' the wrong 
done me by the nun in being thus happy in her cell, in contra- 
diction to all the rules of romance ; I diverted my spleen, how- 
ever, by watching, for a day or two, the pretty coquetries of a 
dark-eyed brunette, who, from the covert of a balcony slirouded 
with flowering shrubs and a silken awningj was carrying on a 
mysterious correspondence with a handsome, dark, well-whisk- 
ered cavalier, who lurked frequently in the street beneath her 
window. Sometimes I saw him at an early hour, stealing forth 
wrapped to the eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered at a 
corner, in various disguises, apparently waiting for a private 
signal to slip into the house. Then there was the tinkling 
of a guitar at night and a lantern shifted from place to 
place in the balcony. I imagined another intrigue like that 
of Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my supposi- 
tions. The supposed lover turned out to be the husband of 
the lady, and a noted contrabandista ; and all his mysterious 
signs and movements had doubtless some smuggling scheme in 
view. 

— I occasionally amused myself with noting from this bal- 
cony the gradual changes of the scenes below, according to the 
diff'erent stages of the day. 



THE CHANGES OF THE DAY 93 

Scarce has the gray dawn streaked the sky, and the earliest 
cock crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the suburbs 
give sign of reviving animation ; for the fresh hours of dawning 
are precious in the summer season in a sultry climate. All are 
anxious to get the start of the sun, in the business of the day. 
The muleteer drives forth his loaded train for the journey ; the 
traveller slings his carbine behind his saddle, and mounts his 
steed at the gate of the hostel ; the brown peasant from the 
country urges forward his loitering beasts, laden with panniers 
of sunny fruit and fresh dewy vegetables, for already the thrifty 
housewives are hastening to the market. 

The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, tipping the 
transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound 
melodiously through the pure bright air, announcing the hour 
of devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before 
the chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and enters 
with hat in hand, smoothing his coal-black hair, to hear a mass, 
and to put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring across the 
sierra. And now steals forth on fairy foot the gentle Seiiora, 
in trim basquiiia, with restless fan in hand, and dark eye flash- 
ing from beneath the gracefully folded mantilla ; she seeks some 
well-frequented church to offer up her morning orisons ; but the 
nicely adjusted dress, the dainty shoe and cobweb stocking, the 
raven tresses exquisitely braided, the fresh-plucked rose, gleam- 
ing among them like a gem, show that earth divides with Heaven 
the empire of her thoughts. Keep an eye upon her, careful 
mother, or virgin aunt, or vigilant duenna, whichever you may 
be, that walk behind ! 

As the morning advances, the din of labor augments on every 
side ; the streets are thronged with man, and steed, and beast 
of burden, and there is a hum and murmur, like the surges of 
the ocean. As the sun ascends to his meridian, the hum and 
bustle gradually decline ; at the height of noon there is a pause. 
The panting city sinks into lassitude, and for several hours 



94 THE ALHAMBRA 

tliere is a general repose. The windows are closed, the curtains 
drawn, the inhabitants retired into the coolest recesses of their 
mansions; the full-fed monk snores in his dormitory; the 
brawny porter lies stretched on the pavement beside his burden ; 
the peasant and the laborer sleep beneath the trees of the Ala- 
meila, lulled by the sultry chirping of the locust. The streets 
are deserted, except by the water-carrier, wlio refreshes the ear 
by proclaiming the merits of his sparkling beverage, "colder 
than the mountain snow" (mas fria que la nieve). 

As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, and 
when the vesper bell rings out his sinking knell, all nature seems 
to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has tallen. Now begins 
the bustle of enjoyment, when the citizens pour forth to breathe 
the evening air, and revel away the brief twilight in the walks 
and gardens of the Darrow and Xenil. 

As night closes, the capricious scene assumes new features. 
Light after light gradually twinkles forth ; here a taper from a 
balconied wimlow ; there a votive lamp before the image of a 
Saint. Thus, by degrees, the city emerges from the pervading 
gloom, and sparkles with scattered lights, like the starry firma- 
ment. Now break forth from court and garden, and street and 
lane, the tinkling of innumerable guitars, and the clicking of 
castanets ; blending, at this lofty height, in a faint but general 
concert. " Enjoy the moment " is the creed of the gay and 
amorous Andalusian, and at no time does he practise it more 
zealously than on the balmy nights of summer, wooing his 
mistress with the dance, the love-ditty, and the passionate 
serenade. 

I was one evening seated in the balcony, enjoying the light 
breeze that came rustling along the side of the hill, among the 
tree-tops, when my humble historiographer Mateo, who was at 
my elbow, pointed out a spacious house, in an obscure street of 
the Albaycin, about which he related, as nearly as I can recol- 
lect, the following anecdote. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON 95 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON 

" There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in 
Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holidays, and Saint 
Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he 
grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his 
numerous family. One night he was roused from his first sleep 
by a knocking at his door. He opened it, and beheld before 
iiim a tall, meagre, caaaveroufe-lookihg priest. 

" ' Hark ye, honest friend ! ' said the stranger ; * I have ob- 
served that you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted ; 
will you undertake a job this very night 1 ' 

" ' With all my heart, Seiior Padre, on condition that I am 
paid accordingly.' 

" ' That you shall be ; but you must suffer yourself to be 
blindfolded.' 

"To this the mason made no objection. So, being hood- 
winked, he was led by the priest through various rough lanes 
and winding passages, until they stopped before the portal of a 
house. The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking lock, 
and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered, 
the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted 
through an echoing corridor and a spacious hall to an interior 
part of the building. Here the bandage was removed from his 
eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted by 
a single lamp. In the centre was the dry basin of an old Moor- 
ish fountain, under which the priest requested him to form a 
small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. 
He accordingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. 
Just before daybreak the priest put a piece of gold into his 
hand, and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to 
his dwelling. 

'"Are you willing,' said he, 'to return and complete your work? 



96 THE ALHAMBRA 

•' 'Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am so well paid.' 

" * Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again.' 

" He did so, and the vault was completed. 

" 'Now,' said the priest, 'you must help me to bring forth 
the bodies that are to be buried in this vault.' 

"The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words : he 
followed the priest, with trembling steps, into a retired chamber 
of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle of 
death, but was relieved on perceiving three or four portly jars 
standing in one corner. They were evidently full of money, and 
it was with great labor that he and the priest carried them forth 
and consigned them to their tomb. The vault was then closed, 
the pavement replaced, and all traces of the work were obliter- 
ated. The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a 
route different from that by which he had come. After they 
had wandered for a long time through a perplexed maze of lanes 
and alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold 
into his hand: 'Wait here,' said he, 'until you hear the cathe- 
dral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover your eyes 
before that time, evil will befall you : ' so saying, he departed. 
The mason waited foithfully, amusing himself by weighing the 
gold pieces in his hand, and clinking them against each other. 
The moment the cathedral bell rang its matin peal, he uncovered 
his eyes, and found himself on the banks of the Xenil ; whence 
he made the best of his way home, and revelled with his family 
for a whole fortnight on the profits of his two nights' work ; 
after which he was as poor as ever. 

" He continued to work a little, and pray a good deal, and 
keep saints' days and holidays, from year to year, while his 
family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gipsies. As 
he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was ac- 
costed by a rich old curmudgeon, who was noted for owning many 
houses, and being a griping landlord. The man of money eyed him 
for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious shagged eyebrows. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON 97 

'" ' 1 iim told, friend, that you are very poor.* 
*' ' There is no denying the fact, seiior, — it speaks for itself.' 
" ' I presume, then, that you will be glad of a job, and will 
work cheap.' 

" ' As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada.' 
" ' That's what I want. I have an old house fallen into 
decay, which costs me more money than it is worth to keep it 
in repair, for nobody will live in it ; so I must contrive to patch 
it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible.' 

" The mason was accordingly conducted to a large deserted 
house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several 
empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where 
his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. He paused 
for a moment, for a dreaming recollection of the place came over 
him. 

" 'Pray,' said he, ' who occupied this house formerly?' 
" ' A pest upon him ! ' cried the landlord ; ' it was an old 
miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself He was 
said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, it was 
thought lie would leave all his treasures to the Church. He 
died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take pos- 
session of his wealth ; but nothing could they find but a few 
ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has fallen on me, 
for, since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my house 
without paying rent, and there is no taking the law of a dead 
man. The people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all night 
in the chamber where the old priest slept, as if he were count- 
ing over his money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning 
about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have 
brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain 
in it.' 

"Enough," said the mason sturdily: 'let me live in your 
house rent-free until some better tenant present, and I will 
engage to put it in repair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that 



98 THE ALHAMBRA 

disturbs it. I am a gooJ Christian and a poor man, and am 
not to be daunted by the Devil himself, even though he should 
come in the shape of a big bag of money ! ' 

" The oflfer of the honest mason was gladly accepted ; he 
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his en- 
gagements. By little and little he restored it to its former 
state ; the clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the 
ciiamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by day in 
the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he increased 
rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbors, and be- 
came one of the richest men in Granada : he gave large sums to 
the Church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and 
never revealed the secret of the vault until on his death-bed to 
his son and heir." 



THE COURT OF LIOXS 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its power 
of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and thus 
clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory 
and the imagination. As I delight to walk in these " vain 
shadows," I am prone to seek those parts of the Alhambra 
which are most favorable to this phantasmagoria of the mind ; 
and none are more so than the Court of Lions, and its surround- 
ing halls. Here the hand of time has fallen the lightest, and 
the traces of Moorish elegance and splendor exist in almost 
their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the founda- 
tions of this pile, and rent its rudest towers ; yet see ! not one 
of those slender columns has been displaced, not an arch of that 
light and fragile colonnade given way, and all the fairy fretwork 
of these domes, apparently as unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics 
of a morning's frost, exist after the lapse of centuries, almost as 
fresh as if from the hand of the Moslem artists. I write in the 



THE COURT OF LIONS 99 

midst of tli(?se moiuentos of the past, in tlio fresh hour of early 
morning, in the fated Hall of the Abencerragos. Tiie blood- 
stained fountain, the legendary monument of their massacre, is 
before me ; the lofty jet almost casts its dew upon my pap(>r. 
Mow difficult to reconcile the ancient tale of violence and blood 
with the gentle Tind peaceful scene around ! Everything here 
appears calculated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for every- 
thing is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls tenderly 
from above, through the lantern of a dome tinted and wrought 
as if by fairy hands. Through the Jimple and frettcnl arch of 
the portal I behold the Court of Lions, with brilliant sunshine 
gleaming along its colonnades and sparkling in its fountains. 
The lively swallow dives into the court, and, rising with a surge, 
darts away twittering over the roofs ; the busy bee toils hum- 
ming among the flower-beds ; and painted butterflies iiover from 
plant to plant, and flutter up and sport with each other in the 
sunny air. It needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to picture 
some pensive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded 
haunts of Oriental luxury. 

He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect 
more in unison with its fortunes, let him come when tlie shadows 
of evening temper the brightness of the court, and throw a gloom 
into the surrounding halls. Then nothing can be more serenely 
melancholy, or more in harmony with the tale of departed 
grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, whose 
deep shadowy arcades extend aci'oss the upper end of the court. 
Here was performed, in presence of Ferdinand and Isabella and 
their triumphant court, the pompous ceremonial of high mass, 
on taking possession of the Alhambra. The very cross is still 
to be seen upon the wall, where the altar was erected, and where 
ofliciated the Grand Cardinal of Spain, and others of the highest 
religious dignitaries of the land. I picture to myself the scene 
when this place was filled with the conquering host, that mix 



100 THE ALHAMBRA 

ture of mitred prelate and shaven monk, and steel-clad knight 
and silken courtier ; when crosses and crosiers and religious 
standards were mingled with proud armorial ensigns and the 
banners of the haughty chiefs of Spain, and flaunted in triumph 
through these Moslem halls. I picture to myself Columbus, 
the future discoverer of a world, taking his modest stand in a 
remote corner, the humble and neglected spectator of tlie pageant. 
I see in imagination the Catholic sovereigns prostrating them- 
selves before the altar, and pouring forth thanks for their vic- 
tory ; while the vaults resound with sacred minstrels}'", and the 
deep-toned Te Deum. 

The transient illusion is over, — the pageant melts from the 
fancy, — monarch, priest, and warrior return into oblivion with 
the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of their 
triumph is waste and desolate. Tlie bat flits about its twilight 
vault, and the owl hoots from the neighboring tower of Comares. 

Entering the Court of the Lions a few evenings since, I was 
almost startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly seated near 
the fountain. For a moment one of the fictions of the place 
seemed realized : an enchanted Moor had broken the spell of 
centuries, and become visible. He proved, however, to be a 
mere ordinary mortal : a native of Tetuan in Barbary, who had 
a shop in the Zacatin of Granada, where he sold rhubarb, trinkets, 
and perfumes. As he spoke Spanish fluently, I was enabled to 
hold conversation with him, and found him shrewd and intelli- 
gent. He told me that he came up the hill occasionally in the 
summer, to pass a part of the day in the Alhambra, which re- 
minded him of tlie old palaces in Barbary, being built and 
adorned in similar style, though with more magnificence. 

As we walked about the palace, he pointed out several of the 
Arabic inscriptions, as possessing muc*!! poetic beauty. 

"Ah, seiior," said he, "when the Moors 'held Granada, they 
were a gayer people than they are nowadays. Tiiey thought 
only of love, music, and poetry. They made stanzas upon every 



A MOOR IN THE COURT OF LIONS 101 

occasion, and set them all to music. He who could make the 
best verses, and she who had the most tuneful voice, might be 
sure of favor and preferment. In those days, if any one asked 
for bread, the reply was, make me a couplet ; and the poorest 
beggar, if he bogged in rhyme, would often be rewarded with 
a piece of gold." 

" And is the popular feeling for poetry," said I, " entirely lost 
among you?" . \ . ■ "^ i- u^^ 

"By no means, seiior ; the people of Barbary, even those of*^ 
the lower classes, still make couplets, and good ones too, as in 
old times ; but talent is not rewarded as it was then ; the rich 
prefer the jingle of their gold to the sound of poetry or music." 

As he was talking, his eye caught one of the inscriptions 
which foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of the Mos- 
lem monai'chs, the masters of this pile. He shook his head, 
and shrugged his shoulders, as he interpreted it. "Such might 
have been the case," said he; "the Moslems might still have 
been reigning in the Alhambra, had not Boabdil been a traitor, 
and given up his capital to the Christians. The Spanish mon- 
archs would never have been able to conquer it by open force." 

I endeavored to vindicate the memory of the unlucky Boabdil 
from this aspersion, and to show that the dissensions which led 
to the downfall of the Moorish throne originated in the cruelty 
of his tiger-hearted father; but the Moor would admit of no 
palliation. 

"Muley Abul Hassan," said he, "might have been cruel; 
but he was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been properly 
seconded, Granada would still have been ours ; but his son 
Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his power, sowed treason 
in his palace and dissension in his camp. May the curse of 
God light upon him for his treachery ! " With these words the 
Moor left the Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees with an 
anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course of a tour in 



i02 THE ALHAMBRA 

Barbary, had an interview with the Pacha of Tetuan. The 
Moorish governor was particular in his inquiries about Spain, 
and especially concerning the favored region of Andalusia, the 
delights of Granada, and the remains of its royal palace. The 
replies awakened all those fond recollections, so deeply cherished 
by the Moors, of the power and splendor of their ancient em- 
pire in Spain. Turning to his Moslem attendants, the Pacha 
stroked his beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations, 
that such a sceptre should have fallen from the sway of true 
believers. He consoled himself, however, with the persuasion, 
that the power and prosperity of the Spanish nation were on 
the decline ; that a time would come when the Moors would 
conquer their rightful domains ; and that the day was perhaps 
not far distant when Mohammedan worship would again be 
offered up in the mosque of Cordova, and a Mohammedan prince 
sit on his throne in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among the Moors 
of Barbary; who consider Spain, or Andaluz, as it was an- 
ciently called, their rightful heritage, of which they have been 
despoiled by treachery and violence. These ideas are fostered 
and perpetuated by the descendants of the exiled Moors of 
Granada, scattered among the cities of Barbary. Several 
of these reside in Tetuan, preserving their ancient names, such 
as Paez and Medina, and refraining from intermarriage with 
any ftimilies who cannot claim the same high origin. Their 
vaunted lineage is regarded with a degree of popular deference 
rarely shown in Mohammedan communities to any hereditary 
distinction, excepting in the royal line. 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the terrestrial 
paradise of their ancestors, and to put up prayers in their 
mosques on Fridays, imploring Allah to hasten the time when 
Granada shall be restored to the faithful : an event to which 
they look forward as fondly and confidently as did the Christian 
crusaders to the re/rvprv of the Holy Sepulchre. Nay. it i" 



BOABDIL SLANDERED 103 

added, that some of thein retain tlie ancient maps and deeds 
of the estates and gardens of their ancestors at Granada, and 
even the keys of the houses ; holding them as evidences of their 
hereditary claims, to be produced at the anticipated day of 
restoration. 

My conversation with the Moor set me to musing on the 
f ite of Boabdil. Never was surname more applicable than that 
bestow(;d upon him by his subjects of El Zogoybi, or the Un- 
lucky. His misfortunes began almost in his cradle, and ceased 
not even with his death. If ever he cherished the desire 
of leaving an honorable name on the historic page, how cruelly 
has lie been defrauded of liis hopes ! Who is there that has 
turned tlie least attention to the romantic history of the Moor- 
ish domination in Spain, without kindling with indignation at 
the alleged atrocities of Boabdil ? Who has not been touched 
with the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected by 
him to a trial of life and death, on a false charge of infidelity 1 
Who has not been shocked by his alleged murder of his sister 
and her two children, in a transport of passion? WHio has not 
felt his blood boil at the inhuman massacre of the gallant 
Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he ordered 
to be beheaded in the Court of Lions? All these charges have 
been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into ballads, 
dramas, and romances, until they have taken too thorough 
possession of the public mind to be eradicated. There is not a 
foreigner of education that visits the Alhambra, but asks for 
the fountain where the Abencerrages were beheaded ; and gazes 
with horror at the grated gallery where the queen is said to 
have been confined ; not a peasant of the Vega or the Siena, 
but sings the story in rude couplets, to the accompaniment 
of his guitar, while his hearers learn to execrate the very 
name of Boabdil. 

Never, however^ was name more foully and unjustly slandered, 
^ have examined all the authentic chronicles and letters written 



104 THE ALHAMBRA 

by Spanish authors, contemporary with Boabdil ; some of whom 
were in the confidence of the CathoHc sovereigns, and actually 
present in the camp throughout the war. I have examined 
all the Arabian authorities I could get access to, through the 
medium of translation, and have found nothing to justify these 
dark and hateful accusations. The most of these tales may be 
traced to a work commonly called " The Civil Wars of Gra- 
nada," containing a pretended history of tlie feuds of the 
Zegries and Abencerrages, during the last struggle of the Moor- 
ish empire. The work appeared originally in Spanish, and 
professed to be translated from the Arabic by one Gines Perez 
de Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia. It has since passed into 
various languages, and Florian has taken from it much of the 
fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova : it has thus, in a great meas- 
ure, usurped the authority of real history, and is currently 
believed by the people, and especially the peasantry of Granada. 
The whole of it, however, is a mass of fiction, mingled with 
a few disfigured truths, which give it an air of veracity. It 
bears internal evidence of its falsity ; the manners and customs 
of the Moors being extravagantly misrepresented in it, and 
scenes depicted totally incompatible with their habits and their 
faith, and which never could have been recorded by a Moham- 
medan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost criminal in the 
wilful perversions of this work : great latitude is inidoubtedly 
to be allowed to romantic fiction, but there are limits which it 
must not pass ; and the names of the distinguished dead, which 
belong to history, are no more to be calumniated than those 
of the illustrious living. One would have thought, too, that 
the unfortunate Boabdil had suifered enough for his justifiable 
hostility to the Spaniards, by being stripped of his kingdom, 
without having his name thus wantonly traduced, and rendered 
a by-word and a theme of infamy in his native land, and in the 
verv mansion of his fathers ! 



THE ABENCERRAOES 105 

If the reader is sufficiently interested in these questions to 
tolerate a little historical detail, the following facts, gleaned 
from what appear to be authentic sources, and tracing the for- 
tunes of the Abenccrrages, may serve to exculpate the unfortu- 
nate Boabdil fi'om the perfidious massacre of that illustrious line 
so shamelessly charged to him. It will also serve to tlirow a 
proper light upon the alleged accusation and imprisonment of 
his queen. 

THE ABENCERRAGES 

A GKAND line of distinction existed among the Moslems of 
Spain, between those of Oriental origin and tliose from Western 
Africa. Among the former the Arabs considered themselves 
the purest race, as being descended from tlie countrymen of the 
Prophet, who first raised the standard of Ishim ; among the 
latter, the most warlike and powerful were the Berber tribes 
from Mount Atlas and tlie deserts of Sahara, commonly known 
as Moors, who subdued the tribes of the sea-coast, founded the 
city of Morocco, and for a long time disputed with the Oriental 
races the control of Moslem Spain. 

Among the Oriental races the Abencerrages held a distin- 
guished rank, priding themselves on a pure Arab descent from 
the Beni Seraj, one of the tribes who were Ansares or Com- 
panions of the Prophet. The Abencerrages flourished for a time 
at Cordova ; but probably repaired to Granada after the down- 
fall of the Western Calipliat ; it was there they attained their 
historical and romantic celebrity, being foremost among the 
splendid chivalry winch graced the court of the Alhambra. 

Their highest and most dangerous prosperity was during the 
precarious reign of Muhamed Nasar, surnamed El Hayzari, or 
the Left-handed. That ill-starred monarch, wlien he ascended 
the throne in 1423, lavished his favors upon this gallant line, 
making the head of the tribe, Jusef Aben Zeragh, his vizier, or 



10() THE ALHAMBRA 

prime minister, and advancing his relatives and friends to th^ 
most distinguished posts about the court. This gave great 
offence to other tribes, and caused intrigues among their chiefs. 
Muhamed lost popularity also by his manners. He was vain, 
inconsiderate, anil haughty ; disdained to mingle among his sub- 
jects ; forbaile those jousts and tournaments, the delight of high 
and low, and passed his time in the luxurious retirement of the 
Alhambra. The consequence was a popular insurrection : the 
palace was stormed ; the king escaped through the gardens, tied 
to the sea-coast, crossed in disguise to Africa, and took refuge 
with his kinsman, the sovereign of Tunis. 

Muhanieil el Zaguer, cousin of the fugitive monarch, took 
possession of the vacant throne. He pursued a different course 
from his predecessor. He not only gave fetes and tourneys, but 
entered tlie lists himself, in grand and sumptuous array ; lie 
distinguished himself in managing his horse, in tilting, riding 
at the ring, and otlier chivalrous exercises ; feasted with his 
cavaliers, and made them magnificent presents. 

Those who had been in ftivor with his predecessor, now ex- 
perienced a reverse ; he manifested such hostility to thenn that 
more than five hundred of the principal cavaliers left tlie city. 
Jusef Aben Zeragh, with forty of the Abencerrages, abandoned 
Granada in the night, and sought the court of Juan the king of 
Castile. Moved by their representations, tliat young and gen- 
erous monarch wrote letters to the sovereign of Tunis, inviting 
him to assist in punishing the usurper and restoring the exiled 
king to his throne. The taithful and indefatigable vizier accom- 
panied the bearer of these letters to Tunis, where he rejoined lii? 
exiled sovereign. The letters were successful. Muhamed el 
Hayzari landed in Andalusia with five hundred African horse, 
anil was joined by the Abencerrages and others of his adherents, 
and by his Christian allies; wherever he appeared the people 
submitted to him ; troops sent against him deserted to his 
standard ; Granada was recovered without a blow ; the usurpei 



DON FEDRO VENEGAS 107 

retreated to the Alhambra, but was beheaded by his own soldiers 
(1428), after reigning between two and three years. 

El Hayzari, once more on the throne, heaped honors on the 
loyal vizier, through whose faithful services lie had been restored, 
and once more the line of tlie Abencerragcs basked in the sun- 
shine of royal favor. El Hayzari sent ambassadors to King 
Juan, thanking him for his aid, and proposing a perpetual league 
of amity. The king of Castile required homage and yearly trib- 
ute. These the left-handed monarch refused, supposing the 
youthful king too much engaged in civil war to enforce his 
claims. Again the kingdom of Granada was harassed by inva- 
sions, and its Vega laid waste. Various battles took place with 
various success. But El Hayzari's greatest danger was near at 
home. There was at that time in Granada a cavalier, Don Pedro 
Venegas by name, a Moslem by faith, but Christian by descent, 
whose early history borders on romance. He was of the noble 
house of Luque, but captured when a child, eiglit years of age, 
by Cid Yahia Almayar, prince of Almeria,^ who adopted him as 
his son. educated him in tlie Moslem faith, and brought him up 
among his children,, the Celtimerian princes, a proud family, 
descended in direct line from Abcn Hud, one of the early Gra- 
nadian kings. A mutual attachment sprang up between Don 
Pedro and the princess Cetimerien, a daughter of Cid Yahia, 
famous for her beauty, and whose name is perpetuated by the 
ruins of her palace in Granada — still bearing traces of Moorish 
elegance and luxury. In process of time they were married ; 
and thus a scion of the Spanish house of Luque became en- 
grafted on the royal stock of Aben Hud. 

Such is the early story of Don Pedro Venegas, who at the 
time of which we tre^it was a man mature in years, and of an 
active, ambitious spirit. He appears to have been the soul of a 
conspiracy set on foot about this time, to topjffe Muhamed the 
Left-handed from his unsteady throne, and elevate in his place 
Vi'sef Aben Alhamar, the eldest of the Celtimerian princes. 



108 THE ALHAMBRA 

'I'lic aid of tho kiiiuj of Cnstilo was to be secured, and Don 
JNmIk) ])ioceeded on n, secret embassy to Cordova for the pur- 
pose. Ili^ infoniKMl \\'\\v^ Juan of tlie extent of tlie ooiis])ira('y ; 
tl»at Yus(;f Abeu AUiauiar eould bring a lar^^e fori-e to liis 
standard as soon as he should appear in the Vega, and would 
acknowledge liiins(>lf Ids vassal, if with his aid he should attain 
the erovvn. The aid was promised, and Don IVth-o hastened 
back to Granada with the tidings. Tho conspirators now left 
the city, a few at a time, undcu' various pretexts ; and when 
King Juan passed the frontier, Yusef Aben Aliiamar brought 
(Mgiit thousand men to his standard, and kissed his hand in 
token of allegiance. 

It is needless to recount the various battles by which the 
kingdom was (h'solated, and the various intrigues by which 
one hair of it was roused to rebellion. Tlie Abeneerrages 
stood by tho failing fortunes of Muiiamcd throughout the 
struggle ; their last stand was at Loxa, where their chief, the 
vizier Yusef Aben Zeragh, fell bravely iigiiting, and many of 
tlji'-ir noblest cavaliers were slain: in fact, in that disastrous 
war tlu^ fortunes of the family were nearly wrecked. 

Again the ill-starred IMuhamed was driv(>n from his throne, 
and took refuge in Malaga, the alcayde of which still remaineil 
true to him. 

Yusef Aben Alhaniar, commonly known as Yusef II., en- 
tcM'cd Granada in triumph on the first of January, 1 l.'VJ, but 
he found it a melancholy city, where half of the inhabitants 
were in mourning. Not a noble family but had lost some 
menduM- ; and in tho slaughter of the Abeneerrages at Loxa 
iiad fallen some of the brightest of the chivalry. 

The royal ])ageant jiassed through silent streets, and the 
barren homage of a court in the halls of the Alhambra ill 
supplied the want of sint'cre and popular devotion. Yuset 
Aben Alhamar felt the insecurity of his position. The deposed 
monarch was at hand in Malaga; the sovereign of Tunis es- 



YIJSEF A BEN ALII A MAR 101) 

poused his causo, and pleaded with t\w. (Jlnisti.-iii iiionMrclis in 
his favor; above all, Yiisef felt his own uupopidarity in CJra- 
nada, ; ])r(',vions rati^ni(;.s li;ul iiiipaiicd liis licjiltli, a, i^'ofbinid 
iiH'laiiclioly Kcttlc^d upon him, and in the cour.se ol' six niontlia 
he Bank into the grave. 

At the news of hi.s death, Mnliained the Left-hnndi'd iiast- 
ened from Mnlaga, and again was phuuMl on the tlironc!. l^'iom 
the wrecks of the Abencerrages he ehose as vizier Abdelbar, 
one of the worthie.st of that m;ign:inimous line. ThnMigh hin 
advice he restrained his vindictive feelings and adopted a 
conciliatcry i)()li(;y. He pardoned most of his enemies. Ynsef, 
the defunct usiii per, had left three cliildrcn. ITis estates wc^re 
aj>i)ortion(!d among th(!m. Ahen (Jelim, tiie eldest son, was 
confirmed in th(! tithi of Prince of Almeria and Lord of Mar- 
chena in tiic Alj)uxarra,s. Alimed, the youngest, was made 
Sefior of Luchar ; and Ecpuvila, the daughter, received rich 
patrimonial lands in the fertile Vega, and various houses and 
shojts in the Zacatin of Clranada. The vizier Abdelbar coun- 
selled the king, moreover, to secure the adheren(;e of th(! family 
by matrimonial connections. An aunt of Muliamed was ac- 
cordingly given in marriage to Aben Celim, whih; the j)rince 
Nasai', younger brother of the d(;ceased usurp(!r, nsceived the 
hand of the ])ea.utiful Lindaraxa, daughter of Muhamed's faith- 
ful a,dh(!rcnt, the; ,'dcayd(; of Malaga, This was the Lindanixa 
whose name still designates one of the ganlens of the Alhandmi. 

Don Pedro de Venegas alone, the husband of the princess 
C(!tim(iri(!n, rec(!ived no favor. He was considen^d as having 
produc(;d the late troubles by his intrigues. The Abencerrages 
charged him with the reverses of their family and the deaths 
of so many of their l)ravest cavaliers. The king never spoke 
of him but by tlu; o])probrious ajjpfillation of the Tornadizo, oi 
K(!negade, Finding himself in danger of arrest and punish- 
m(!nt, he took leave of his wife, the princess, his two sons, 
Abul Cacim and Reduan, and his daughter, (jetimerien, and 



110 THE ALHAMBKA 

Hod to Jaen. Tliore, like his biotliei-in-law, the usurper, he 
expiatoil his intrigues and irroguhir ambition by profound 
humiliation and molancholy, antl died in li»U a penitent, 
because ii disa})i)oiuted man,' 

Muliamed el Uayzari was doomed to furtlier reverses. He 
hail two nephews, Aben Osmyn, surnamed El Anaf, or the 
Lame, and Aben Ismael. The former, who was of an am- 
bitious spirit, resided in Almerui ; the latter in Granada, where 
lie had many friends. He was on the point of espousing a 
beautiful giil, wiien his royal unele interfered ami gave her 
to one of his favorites. Enraged at this despotic act, the 
prinee Aben Ismael took horse and weapons and sallied from 
Granada for the frontier, followed by numerous cavaliers. The 
atfair gave general disgust, especially to the Abeneerrages, who 
were attached to the prinee. No sooner did tidings reach 
Aben Osiuyn of the public discontent than lus ambition was 
aroused. Throwing himself suildenly into Granada, he raised 
a p(>p\dar tunudt, surprised his uncle in the Alhambra, eom- 
pelK'd him to abilicate, and proclaimed himself king. This 
occurred in September, 1-445. The Abeneerrages now gave 
up the fiM-tuni's oi the left-handed king as hopeless, and him- 
self as incompetent to rule. \jC\\ by their kinsman, the vizier 
Abilclbar, and accompanied by many other cavaliers, they 
abauiloncil the court and took pi>st in Montefrio. Thence 
Ab.lelbar wrote to Priui'e Aben Ismael, who had taken n^fuge 
in Castile, inviting him to the cam]), olVcring to support his 
pretensions to the throne, and ailvising him to leave Castile 
secretly, lest his departure should be opi>osed by King Juan II. 
The prince, lunveviM-, contiding in the generosity of the Castilian 
monarch, told frankly tiie whole matter. lie was not mistaken. 
King Juan not merely gave him permission to depart, but 
promised him aiil, and gave him letters to that effect to his 
conuuanders ou the fnmtiers. Aben Ismael de})arted with a 
brilliant escort, arrived in safety at ]\lontefrio, and was pro- 



THE ABKNCFRRAGES 111 

clainiod king of Cranada. by AMclbar and his partisans, the 
most important of whom were the Abencorragos. A long 
course of civil wars ensued between the two cousins, rivals for 
the thvono. Abon Osmyn was aided by the kings of Navarre 
and Aragon, while Juan II., at war with his rebellious sub- 
jects, could give little assistance to Aben Ismacl. 

Thus for si'V(M-al years tlie country was torn by internal strife 
and desolated by foreign inroads, so that scarce a field but was 
stained with blood. Aben Osmyn was brave, and often signal- 
ized himself in arms ; but he was cruel and despotic, and rided 
with an iron hand. He olVended the nobles by his caprices, and 
the populace by his tyranny, while his rival cousin conciliated 
all hearts by his benignity. Hence there were continual deser- 
tions from (Iranada to tlie fortitied camj) at ]\Iontefrio, and the 
party of Aben Ismael was constantly gaining strength. At 
length the king of Castile, having made i>eace with the kings 
of Aragon and ^Navarre, was enabled to send a choice body of 
troops to the assistance of Aben Ismael. The latter now left 
his trenches in Iklontcfrio, and took the field. The combined 
forces marched upon Granada. Aben Osmyn sallied forth to 
the encounter. A bloody battle ensued, in which both ot the 
rival cousins fought with heroic valor. Aben Osmyn was de- 
feated and driven back to his gates. He sunuuoncHl the inhab- 
itants to arms, but few answered to his call ; his cruelty had 
alienated all hearts. Seeing his ibrtunes at an (Mid, he deter- 
mined to close his career by a signal act of vengeance. Shut- 
ting himself up in the Alhambra, he summoned thither a 
number of the principal cavaliers whom he suspected of disloy- 
alty. As they entered, they were one by one put to death. 
This is supposed by some to be the massacre which gave its 
fatal name to the hall of the Abencerragcs. Having perpetrated 
this atrocious act of vengeance, and hearing by the shouts of 
the populace that Aben Ismael was already proclaimed king 
in the city, he escaped with his satellites by the Cerro del Sol 



112 THE ALHAMBRA 

and the valley of the Darro to the Alpiixarra Mountains ; where 
he and his followers led a kind of robber life, laying villages 
and roads under contribution. 

Aben Ismael II., who thus attained the throne in 1454, 
secured the friendship of King Juan II. by acts of homage and 
magnificent presents. He gave liberal rewards to those who 
had been ftiithful to hfm, and consoled the families of those 
who had follen in his cause. During his reign, the Abencer- 
rages were again among the most tavored of the brilliant 
chivalry that graced his court. Aben Ismael, however, was 
not of a warlike spirit ; his reign was distinguished rather by 
works of public utility, the ruins of some of which are still to 
be seen on the Cerro del Sol. 

In the same year of 1454 Juan 11. died, and was succeeded 
by Henry IV. of Castile, surnamed tlie Impotent. Aben Ismael 
neglected to renew the league of amity with him which had 
existed with his predecessor, as he found it to be unpopular 
with the people of Granada. King Henry resented the omis- 
sions, and, under pretext of arrears of tribute, made repeated 
forays into the kingdom of Granada. He gave countenance 
also to Aben Osmyn and his robber hordes, and took some of 
them into pay ; but his proud cavaliers refused to associate 
with infidel outlaws, and determined to seize Aben Osmyn ; 
who, however, made his escape, lirst to Seville, and thence to 
Castile, 

In the year 1456, on the occasion of a great foray into the 
Vega by the Christians, Aben Ismael, to secure a peace, agreed 
to pay the king of Castile a certain tribute annually, and at the 
same time to liberate six hundred Christian captives ; or, should 
the number of captives tall short, to make it up in Moorish 
hostages. Aben Ismael fulfilled the rigorous terms of the 
treaty, and reigned for a number of years with more tran- 
quillity than usually fell to the lot of the monarchs of that 
belligerent kingdom. Granada enjoyed a great state of pros- 



DESCENDANTS OF DON PEDRO VENEGAS 113 

perity during liis reign, and was the seat of festivity and 
splendor. His sultana was a daughter of Cid Hiaya Abraham 
Alnayar, prince of Alnieria ; and he had by her two sons, Abul 
Hassan, and Abi Abdallah, surnanied El Zagal, the father and 
uncle of Boabdil. We approach now the eventful period signal- 
ized by the conquest of Granada. 

Muley Abul Hassan succeeded to the throne on the death of 
his father in 1465. One of his first acts was to refuse payment 
of the degrading tribute exacted by the Castilian monarch. His 
refusal was one of the causes of the subsequent disastrous war. 
I confine myself, however, to facts connected with the fortunes 
of the Abencerrages and the charges advanced against Boabdil. 

The reader will recollect that Don Pedro Venegas, surnamed 
El Tornadizo, when he fled from Grana(Ui in 1433, left behind 
him two sons, Abul Cacim and Reduan, and a daughter, Ceti- 
merien. They always enjoyed a distinguished rank in Granada, 
from their royal descent by the mother's side, and from being 
connected, through the princes of Almeria, with the last and 
the present king. The sons had distinguished themselves by 
their talents and bravery, and the daughter Cetimerien was 
married to Cid Hiaya, grandson of King Yusef and brother-in- 
law of El Zagal. Thus powerfully connected, it is not surpris- 
ing to find Abul Cacim Venegas advanced to the post of vizier 
of Muley Abul Hassan, and Reduan Venegas one of his most 
favored generals. Their rise was I'cgarded with an evil eye by 
the Abencerrages, who remembered the disasters brought upon 
their family, and the deaths of so many of their line, in the war 
fomented by the intrigues of Don Pedro, in the days of Yusef 
Aben Alhamar. A feud hart xisted ever since between the 
Abencerrages and the house of Venegas. It was soon to be 
aggravated by a formidable schism which took place in the 
royal harem. 

Muley Abul Hassan, in his youthful days, had married his 
cousin, the Princess Ayxa la Horra, daughter of his uncle, the 



114 THE ALHAMBRA 

ill-starred sultan, Muhatned the Left-handed;^ by her he had 
two sons, the eldest of whom was Boabdil, heir presumptive to 
the throne. Unfortunately at an advanced age he took another 
wife, Isabella de Solis, a young and beautiful Christian captive, 
better known by her Moorish appellation of Zoraya ; by her he 
had also two sons. Two factions were produced in the palace 
by the rivalry of the sultanas, who were each anxious to secure 
for their children the succession to the throne. Zoraya was 
supported by tlie vizier Abul Cacim Yenegas, his brother 
Reduan Venegas, and their numerous connections, partly 
through sympathy with her as being, like themselves, of 
Christian lineage, and partly because they saw she was the 
favorite of the doting monarch. 

The Abencerrages, on the contrary, rallied round the sultana 
Ayxa; partly through hereditary opposition to the family of 
Venegas, but chiefly, no doubt, through a strong feeling of 
loyalty to her as daughter of Muhamed Alhayzari, the ancient 
benefactor of their line. 

The dissensions of the palace went on increasing. Intrigues 
of all kinds took place, as is usual in royal palaces. Suspicions 
were artfully instilled in the mind of Muley Abul Hassan that 
Ayxa was engaged in a plot to depose him and put her son 
Boabdil on the throne. In his first transports of rage he con- 
fined them both in the tower of Comares, threatening the life 
of Boabdil. At dead of night the anxious mother lowered her 
son from a window of the tower by the scarfs of herself and 
her female attendants ; and some of her adherents, who were 
in waiting with swift horses, bore him away to the Alpuxarras. 
It is this imprisonment of the sultana Ayxa which possibly gave 
rise to the fable of the queen of Boabdil being confined by him 
in a tower to be tried for her life. No other shadow of a ground 
exists for it, and here we find the tyrant jailer was his father, 
and the captive sultana his mother. 

The massacre of the Abencerrases in the halls of the Alhara 



FATE OF THE ABENCERRAGES 115 

bra is placed by some about this time, and attributed also to 
Muley Abul Hassan, on suspicion of their being concerned in 
the conspiracy. The sacrifice of a number of the cavaliers of 
that line is said to have been suggested by the vizier Abul 
Cacim Venegas, as a means of striking terror into the rest.^ 
If such were really the case, the barbarous measure proved 
abortive. The Abencerrages continued intrepid, as they were 
loyal, in their adherence to the cause of Ayxa and her son 
Boabdil, throughout the war which ensued, while the Venegas 
were ever foremost in the ranks of Muley Abul Hassan and 
El Zagal. The ultimate fortunes of these rival families is 
worthy of note. The Venegas, in the last struggle of Granada, 
were among those who submitted to the conquerors, renounced 
the Moslem creed, returned to the faith from which their an- 
cestor had apostatized, were rewarded with offices and estates, 
intermarried with Spanish families, and have left posterity 
among the nobles of the land. The Abencerrages remained 
true to their faith, true to their king, true to their desperate 
cause, and went down with the foundering wreck of Moslem 
domination, leaving nothing behind them but a gallant and 
romantic name in history. 

In this historical outline, I trust I have shown enough to put 
the fable concerning Boabdil and the Abencerrages in a true 
light. The story of the accusation of his queen, and his cruelty 
to his sister, are equally void of foundation. In his domestic 
relations he appears to have been kind and affectionate. His- 
tory gives him but one wife, Morayma, the daughter of the 
veteran alcayde of Loxa, old Aliatar, famous in song and story 
for his exploits in border warfare ; and who fell in that disas- 
trous foray into the Christian lands in which Boabdil was taken 
prisoner. Morayma was true to Boabdil throughout all his 
vicissitudes. When he was dethroned by the Castilian mon- 
archs, she retired with him to the petty domain allotted him in 
the valleys of the Alpuxarras. It was only when (dispossessed 



116 THE ALHAMBRA 

of this by the jealous precautions and subtle chicanery of Ferdi 
nand, and elbowed, as it were, out of his native land) he waa 
preparing to embark for Africa, that her health and spirits, 
exhausted by anxiety and long suffering, gave way, and she fell 
into a lingering illness aggravated by corroding melancholy. 
Boabdil was constant and affectionate to her to the last ; the 
sailing of the ships was delayed for several weeks, to the great 
annoyance of the suspicious Ferdinand. At length Morayma 
sank into the grave, evidently the victim of a broken heart, and 
the event was reported to Ferdinand by his agent as one pro- 
pitious to his purposes, removing the only obstacle to the 
embarkation of Boabdil.^ 

1 Alcantara, Hist. Granad. , O. 3, p. 226, note. 

2 Salazar y Castro, Hist. Oenealog. de la Casa de Lara, lib. v. 
c. 12, cited by Alcantara in his Hist. Granad. 

3 Al Makkari, B. VIII. c. 7. 

4 Alcantara, Hist. Granad., c. 17. See also Al Makkari, Hist. 
Mohama. Dynasties, B. VIII. c. 7, with the Commentaries of Don 
Pascual de Guyangos. 

5 For authorities for these latter facts, see the Appendix to the 
author's revised edition of the Conquest of Granada, 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL 

While my mind was still warm with the subject of the un- 
fortunate Boabdil, I set forth to trace the mementos of him 
still existing in this scene of his sovereignty and misfortunes. 
In the tower of Comares, immediately under the Hall of Am- 
bassadors, are two vaulted rooms, separated by a narrow pas- 
sage ; these are said to have been the prisons of himself and his 
mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra ; indeed, no other part of 
the tower would have served for the purpose. The external 
walls of these chambers are of prodigious thickness, pierced with 
small windows secured by iron bars. A narrow stone gallery, 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL 117 

with a low parapet, extends along three sides of the tower just 
below the windows, but at a considerable height from the 
ground. From this gallery, it is presumed, the queen lowered 
her son with the scarfs of herself and her female attendants 
during the darkness of the night to the liill-side, where some 
of his faithful adherents waited with fleet steeds to bear him 
to the mountains. 

Between three and four hundred years have elapsed, yet this 
scene of the drama remains almost unchanged. As I paced the 
gallery, my imagination pictured the anxious queen leaning over 
the parapet, listening, with the throbbings of a mother's heart, 
to the last echoes of the horses' hoofs as her son scoured along 
the narrow valley of the Darro. 

I next sought the gate by which Boabdil made his last exit 
from the Alhambra, when about to surrender his capital and 
kingdom. With the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, or 
perhaps with some superstitious feeling, he requested of the 
Catholic monarchs that no one afterwards might be permitted 
to pass through it. His prayer, according to ancient chronicles, 
was complied with, through the sympathy of Isabella, and the 
gate w^as walled up.^ 

I inquired for some time in vain for such a portal ; at length 
my humble attendant, Mateo Ximenes, said it must be one closed 
up with stones, which, according to w^hat he had heard from his 
father and grandfather, was the gateway by which King Chico 
had left the fortress. There was a mystery about it, and it had 
never been opened within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot. The gateway is in the centre 
of what was once an immense pile, called the Tower of the 
Seven Floors [la Torre de los siete suelos). It is famous in the 
neighborhood as the scene of strange apparitions and Moorish 
enchantments. According to Swinburne the traveller, it was 
originally the great gate of entrance. The antiquaries of Gran- 
ada pronounce it the entrance to that quarter of the royal 



118 THE ALHAMBRA 

residence where the king's body-guards were stationed. It there- 
fore might well form an immediate entrance and exit to the 
palace ; while the grand Gate of Justice served as the entrance 
of state to the fortress.. When Boabdil sallied by this gate to 
descend to the Vega, where he was to surrender the keys of the 
city to the Spanish sovereigns, he left his vizier Aben Comixa 
to receive, at the Gate of Justice, the detachment from the 
Christian army and the officers to whom the fortress was to be 
given up." 

-^ The once redoubtable Tower of the Seven Floors is now a 
mere wreck, having been blown up with gunpowder by the 
French, when they abandoned the^ fortress. Great masses of 
the wall lie scattered about, buried in luxuriant herbage, or 
overshadowed by vines and fig-trees. The arch of the gateway, 
thougli rent by the shock, still remains ; but the last wish of 
poor Boabdil has again, though unintentionally, been fulfilled, 
for the portal has been closed up by loose stones gathered from 
the ruins, and remains impassable. 

Mounting my horse, I followed up the route of the Moslem 
monarch from this place of his exit. Crossing the hill of Los 
Martyros, and keeping along the garden-wall of a convent bear- 
ing the same name, I descended a rugged ravine beset by 
thickets of aloes and Indian figs, and lined with caves and 
hovels swarming witli gipsies. The descent was so steep and 
broken that I was fain to alight and lead my horse. By this 
via dolorosa poor Boabdil took his sad departure to avoid pass- 
ing tlirough the city ; partly, perhaps, through unwillingness 
that its inhabitants should behold his humiliation ; but chiefly, 
in all probability, lest it might cause some popular agitation. 
For the last reason, undoubtedly, the detachment sent to take 
possession of the fortress ascended by the same route. 

Emerging from this rough ravine, so full of melancholy 
associations, and passing by the puerta de los molinos (the 
^ate of the mills), I issued forth upon the public promenade 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL 119 

called the Prado; and pursuing the course of the Xenil, arrived 
at a small chapel, once a mosque, now the Hermitage of San 
Sebastian. Here, according to tradition, Boabdil surrendered the 
keys of Granada to King Ferdinand. I rode slowly thence 
across the Vega to a village where the family and household 
of the unhappy king awaited him, for he had sent them forward 
on the preceding night from the Alhambi-a, that his mother and 
wife might not participate in his personal humiliation, or be 
exposed to the gaze of the conquerors. Following on in the 
route of the melancholy band of royal exiles, I arrived at the 
foot of a chain of barren and dreaiy heights, forming the skirt 
of the Alpuxarra Mountains. From the summit of one of 
these the unfortunate Boabdil took his last look at Granada; 
it bears a name expressive of his sorrows. La Cuesta de las 
Lagrimas (the hill of tears). Beyond it, a sandy road winds 
across a rugged cheerless waste, doubly dismal to the unhappy 
monarch, as it led to exile. 

I spurred my liorsc to the summit of a rock, where Boabdil 
uttered his last sorrowful exclamation, as he turned his eyes 
from taking their farewell gaze : it is still denominated el ultimo 
susjnro del Moro (the last sigh of the Moor). Who can wonder 
at his anguish at being expelled from such a kingdom and such 
an abode? With the Alhainbra he seemed to be yielding up 
all the honors of his line, and all the glories and delights of 
life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction was embittered by the 
reproach of his mother, Ayxa, who had so often assisted him in 
times of peril, and had vainly sought to instil into him her own 
resolute spirit. "You do well," said she, "to weep as a woman 
over what you could not defend as a man ; " a speech savoring 
more of the pride of the princess than the tenderness of the 
mother. 

When this anecdote was related to Charles V. by Bishop 
Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of scorn at the 



120 THE ALHAMBRA 

weakness of the wavering Boabdil. " Had I been he, or had 
he been I," said the haughty potentate, " I would rather have 
made this Alhambra my sepulchre than have lived without a 
kingdom in the Alpuxarra." How easy it is for those in power 
and prosperity to preach heroism to the vanquished ! how little 
can they understand that life itself may rise in value with the 
unfortunate, when naught but life remains ! 

Slowly descending the " Hill of Tears,'' I let my horse take 
his own loitering gait back to Granada, while I turned the 
story of the unfortunate Boabdil over in my mind. In summon- 
ing up the particulars, I found the balance inclining in his favor. 
Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disastrous 
reign, he gives evidence of a mild and amiable character. He, 
in the tirst instance, won the hearts of his people by his affable 
and gracious manners ; he was always placable, and never inflicted 
any severity of punishment upon those who occasionally rebelled 
against him. He was personally brave ; but wanted moral 
courage ; and in times of difficulty and perplexity, was wavering 
and irresolute. This feebleness of spirit hastened his downfall, 
while it deprived him of that heroic grace which would have 
given grandeur and dignity to his fate, and rendered him worthy 
of closing the splendid drama of the Moslem domination in 
Spain. 

1 Ay una puerta en la Alhainbra por la qual salio Chico Key de 
los Mores, quando si rindio prisionero al Rey de Espana D. Fer- 
nando, y le entregd la ciudad con el Castillo. Pidio esta principe 
como por merced, y en memoria de tan importante conquista, al 
que quedasse siempre cerrada esta puerta. Consintio en alio el 
Rey Fernando, y des de aquel tiempo no solamente no se abrio la 
puerta sino tambien se construyo junto h, ella fuerte bastion. — 
Moreri's Historical Dictionary, Spanish Edition, Vol. I. p. 372. 

-The minor details of the surrender of Granada have been stated 
in differeiU ways even by eye-witnesses. The author, in his revised 
edition of the Conquest, has endeavored to adjust them according 
to the latest and apparently best authorities. 



THE FETES OF GRANADA ' 121 



PUBLIC FETES OF GRANADA 

My devoted squire and whilom ragged cicerone Mateo Ximenes 
had a poor-devil passion for fetes and holidays, and was never so 
eloquent as when detailing the ci\il and religious festivals at 
Granada. During the preparations for the annual Catholic fete 
of Corpus Christi, he was in a state of incessant transition 
between the Alharabra and the subjacent city, bringing me 
daily accounts of the magnificent arrangements that were in 
progress, and endeavoring, but in vain, to lure me down from 
my cool and airy retreat to witness them. At length, on the 
eve of the eventful day, I yielded to his solicitations and 
descended from the regal halls of the Alhambra under his escort, 
as did of yore the adventure-seeking Haroun Alraschid under 
that of his Grand Vizier GiafFar. Though it was yet scarce 
sunset, the city gates were already thronged with the picturesque 
villagers of the mountains, and the brown peasantry of the Vega. 
Granada has ever been the rallying-place of a great movuitainous 
region, studded with towns and villages. Hither, during the 
Moorish domination, the chivalry of this region repaired, to 
join in the splendid and semi-warlike fetes of the Vivarrambla ; 
and hither the dlite of its population still resort to join in the 
pompous ceremonials of the Church. Indeed, many of the 
mountaineers from the Alpuxarras and the Sierra de Ronda, 
who now bow to the cross as zealous Catholics, bear the stamp 
of their Moorish origin, and are indubitable descendants of the 
fickle subjects of Boabdil. 

Under the guidance of Mateo, I made my. way through streets 
already teeming with a holiday population, to the square of 
the Vivarrambla, that great place for tilts and tourneys so 
often sung in the Moorish ballads of love and chivalry. A 
gallery or arcade of woofl had been erected along the sides of 
the square, for the grand religious procession of the following 



)22 rUK ALII AMD R A 

day. This was brilliuutly illuminated for the evening as a 
promenade ; and bands of music were stationed on balconies on 
each of the four fa(;ades of the square. All the foshion and 
beauty of Granada, all of its population of either sex that 
had good looks or fine clothes to display, thronged this arcade, 
promenading round and round the Vivarrambla. Here, too, 
were the Majos and Majas, the rural beaux and belles, with 
fine forms, flashing eyes, and gay Andalusian costumes ; some 
of them from Konda itself, that strong-hold of the mountains, 
famous for contrabandistas, bull-fighters and beautiful women. 

While this gay but motley throng kept up a constant circula- 
tion in the gallery, the centre of the square was occupied by 
the peasantry from the surrounding country ; who made no 
pretensions to display, but came for simple, hearty enjoyment. 
Tiie wiiole square was covered with them ; forming separate 
groups of fixmilies and neighborhoods, like gipsy encamp- 
uKMits, some were listening to the traditional ballad drawled 
out to the tinkling of the guitar ; some were engaged in gay 
conversation ; some were dancing to the click of the castanet. 
As I threaded my way through this teeming region with Mateo 
at my heels, I passed occasionally some rustic party, seated on 
the ground, making a merry though frugal repast. If they 
caught my eye as I loitered by, they almost invariably invited 
me to partake of their simple fare. This hospitable usage, 
inherited from their Moslem invaders, and originating in the 
tent of tiie Arab, is universal throughout the land, and observed 
by the poorest Spaniard. 

As the night advanced, the gayety gradually died away in 
the arcades; the bands of nuisic ceased to play, and the brill- 
iant crowd dispersed to their homes. The centre of the square 
still remained well peopled, and Mateo assured me that the 
greater part of the peasantry, men, women, and children, would 
pass the night there, sleeping on the bare earth beneath the 
open canopy of heaven. Indeed, a summer night requires 



THE PROCESSION 123 

ao slielter in tliis favored climate ; and a bed is a superfluity 
which many of the liardy peasantry of Spain never enjoy, and 
which some of them affect to despise. The con)mon Spaniard 
wraps himself in his brown cloak, stretches himself on his 
manta or mule-cloth, and sleeps soundly, luxuriously accommo- 
dated if he can have a saddle for a pillow. In a little while the 
words of Mateo were made good; the peasant nuiltitude nestled 
down on the ground to their night's repose, and Ijy midnight 
the scene on the Vivarrambla resembled the bivouac of an 
army. 

The next morning, accompanied by Mateo, I revisited the 
square at sunrise. It was still strewed with groups of sleepers : 
some were reposing from the dance and revel of the evening; 
others, who had left their villages after woi'k on the preceding 
(lay, having trudged on foot the greater part of the night, were 
taking a sound sleep to freshen themselves for the festivities of 
the day. Numbers from the mountains, and the remote villages 
of the plain, who had set out in the night, continued to arrive 
with their wives and children. All were in high spirits ; 
greeting each other and exchanging jokes and pleasantries. 
The gay tumult thickened as the day advanced. Now came 
pouring in at the city gates, and parading through the streets, 
the deputations from the various villages, destined to swell the 
grand procession. These village deputations were headed by 
their priests, bearing their respective crosses and banners, and 
images of the blessed Virgin and of patron saints ; all of which 
were matters of great rivalsliip and jealousy among the peas- 
antry. It was like the chivalrous gatherings of ancient days, 
when each town and village sent its chiefs, and warriors, and 
standards, to defend the capital, or grace its festivities. 

At length all these various detachments congregated into one 
grand pageant, which slowly paraded round the Vivarrambla, 
and through the principal streets, where every window and 
balcony was hung with tapestry. In this ])rocession were all 



124 THE ALHAMBRA 

the religious orders, the civil and military authorities, and the 
chief jDeople of the parishes and villages : every church and 
convent had contributed its banners, its images, its relics, and 
poured forth its wealth for the occasion. In the centre of the 
procession walked the archbishop, under a damask canopy, and 
surrounded by inferior dignitaries and their dependants. The 
whole moved to the swell and cadence of numerous bands of 
music, and, passing through the midst of a countless yet silent 
multitude, proceeded onward to the cathedral. 

I could not but be struck with the changes of times and 
customs, as I saw this monkish pageant passing through the 
Vivarrambla, the ancient seat of Moslem pomp and chivalry. 
The contrast was indeed forced upon the mind by the decora- 
tions of the square. The whole front of the wooden gallery 
erected for the procession, extending several hundred feet, was 
faced with canvas, on which some humble though patriotic 
artist had painted, by contract, a series of the principal scenes 
and exploits of the Conquest, as recorded in chronicle and 
romance. It is thus the romantic legends of Granada mingle 
themselves with everything, and are kept fresh in the public 
mind. 
/^ As we wended^ our \yay, back to the Alhambra, Mateo was in 
high glee and garrulous vein. "Ah, Seiaor," exclaimed he, 
" there is no place in all the world like Granada for grand cere- 
monies (fimcirmes grandes ); a man need spend nothing on 
pleasure here, it is all furnished him gi-atis." ^^ Pero, el dia de 
la Tomaf Ah^ Senor / el dia de la Tomaf'' (But the day of 
the Taking ! ah, Seiior, the day of the Taking ! ) — that was 
the great day which crowned Mateo's notions of perfect felicity. 
The Dia de la Toma, I found, was the anniversary of the capture 
or taking possession of Granada by the army of Ferdinand and 
Isabella. 

On that day, according to Mateo, the whole city is abandoned 
to revelry. The great alarm-bell on the watch-tower of the 



EL DIA BE LA TOMA 125 

Alhambra {la Torre de la vela) sends forth its clanging peals 
from morn till night ; the sound pervades the whole Vega, and 
echoes along the mountains, summoning the peasantry from far 
and near to the festivities of the metropolis. " Happy the 
damsel," says Mateo, "who can get a chance to ring that bell ; 
it is a charm to insure a husband within the year." 

Throughout the day the Alhambra is thrown open to the 
public. Its halls and courts, where the Moorish monarchs once 
held sway, resound with the guitar and castanet, and gay groups, 
in the fanciful dresses of Andalusia, perform their traditional 
dances inherited from the Moors. 

A grand procession, emblematic of the taking possession of 
the city, moves through the principal streets. The banner of 
Ferdinan<l and Isabella, that precious relic of the Conquest, is 
brought forth from its depository, and borne in triumph by the 
Alferez mayor, or grand standard-bearer. The portable camp- 
altar, carried about with the sovereigns in all their campaigns, 
is transported into the chapel royal of the cathedral, and placed 
before their sepulchre, where their effigies lie in monumental 
marble. High mass is then performed in memory of the Con- 
quest ; and at a certain part of the ceremony the Alferez mayor 
puts on his hat, and waves the standard above the tomb of the 
conquerors. 

A more whimsical memorial of the Conquest is exhibited in 
the evening at the theatre. A popular drama is performed, 
entitled Ave Maria, turning on a famous achievement of Her- 
nando del Pulgar, surnamed "el de las Hazaiias " (he of the 
exploits), a madcap warrior, the favorite hero of the populace of 
Granada. During the time of the siege, the young Moorish 
and Spanish cavaliers vied with each other in extravagant 
bravadoes. On one occasion this Hernando del Pidgar, at 
the head of a handful of followers, made a dash into Granada 
in the dead of the night, nailed the inscription of Ave Maria 
with his dagger to the gate of the principal mosque, a token of 



1 20 THE ALIIAMIiliA 

li!iviii<]f coiiHocnitcd it to {\w. Vir^nii, mid cUVctcd liis retreat ii\ 
HaJet.y.' 

While the Moorisli eiivuli(>.rH .'uhiiin^d tiiis dariiiij^ exploit, Uiey 
felt hound to re.siMit it. On tlie IbllowiuL:; (hiy, tlieretbre, Turfd, 
oii(> of tlie stoutest anion«jj them, paraih'd in front of the (yhris- 
tiaii army, drau^^Mii^j; thi^ tahh^t hearini; the sacM'ed inseiijttion 
AvK Maim A, at liis horse's tail. 'V\w euusc of the Virgin was 
(>a^'eriy viniMcated by ( Jareilaso (hi la Ve.u'a, wlio sh>\v the Moor 
in sinL;ie eond)at, and eh'vated the tablet in devotion and triumph 
at the end of his lance. 

The tirania. foundiMl oti this exploit is prodii^iously j)0]">uhir 
with the common people. Althoui^h it has been acteil time out 
of mind, it never fails lo draw crowds, who bec(une com|)letely 
lost in (he dtdnsions of the sc(mu>. When their favorite l*uli;jir 
si rides about with many a mouthy spe(>eh, in the very midst of 
the Moorish capital, he is cluHU'cd with enthusiastic bnivos ; and 
when he nails the tablet to the door of the mos(pu\ I he theatn* 
absolutely shakes with tlu> thunders of a|)plause. On the other 
hand, the luducky actors who lii;ur(> in the part of the Moors 
have to bear the bruid. o^ popular ind liquation ; which at times 
e(|uals that of the lleio of Laniaiiche, at the puppet show of 
(Jines (h> l*assamon((> ; for, wIkmi lh(^ inlidel 'Tarfe plucks down 
the tablet to tie it to his horse's (ail, some of (he audience rise 
in fury, and are ready to jump upon the stage to reveng(i this 
insult to the Virgin. 

I\V the way, (he ae(ual lin(>al desc(Midan(. of Hernando del 
Pulgar was the Manpiis (h> Salar. As [\w legitimate rej)res(>nt- 
a(iv(> of that madcap hero, and in eommemoration and n-ward 
of this hero's (>xploit. above menlionetl, he inherit(^l the right to 
enter tlu» cathedral on certain oerasions, on horseback ; to sit 
within the choir, and t:o put on his hat at the elevation of tlio 
host, thiMigh thes(> privil(\ges were oft.cn and obstinately von 
tested by tlu^ ^'lorgy. I met him occasionally in society; ho 
was young, of agroeablo appoanuu^o ami inanuors, with bright 



VlLLAdK CKUKMONIM.S 12Y 

black oyos, in which ;ij)|)(^an>(l to link sonic of the Ino ol' liis 
ancestors. Ainon^ tho paintings in the Vivnrrninbia, on tlic 
IV'tc of l^orjtiis (Ihristi, wiu'o sonio dcpictin^j^, in vivid styh', 
(h(! exploits ol' the family hero. An old <^ray lieude<l Hcu'vant 
of the Pnl<;'a.rs sIumI tears on l)ehol(lin<jj tiieni, and inirried home 
to inlorni tlu^ manpiis. Tlui ea<»"er /eal and enthnsiasin of tln^ 
old domestic oidy provoketl a li;jfiit hui<;ii from his yonn^!^ master; 
\vhcren|)on, tnrnin<j: to tho brother of the marcpiis, with tliat 
freedom allowed in Sj)a.in to old family servants, " (Jome, Seilor," 
cried he, "yon are more considerate than yonr brother; come 
and S(H< your ancestor in all his jjjiory ! " 

in (Mnnlation of this |L?reat DIa dc hi l\>ni(i of (iranada, 
almost every villa.<j;<^ and })etty town of the mountains has its 
own anniversary, ('omm(Mnoraiin,L;' with rnslic ))omp and uncouth 
ceremonial its (leliveranc(! from tiu^ Moorish yoke. On these 
occasions, a<'(U)rdin«jj to Mateo, a, kind of resurrection takes place 
of ancient armoi- a.!id wea.j)ons : <jjreat two handed swords, }»on- 
dcrous a,r(iuebus(^s with matchloc^ks, and other warlike relies, 
treasured up from <j^eneral,ion to <;'eneration, sincte the time of 
the (!on(|ucst; and ha.pj)y the c^tuununity that p(»Hsesses some 
old piece of ordinanee, peniii'veiiture om; of the identical lond)ards 
used by the con(|ueroi-s ; it is kej)t thundering- aloni;- the moiui- 
tains all day lout;-, |)rovided the ("omnumity can allbnl sullicieut 
expenditin(^ of |»owd(^r. 

In th(! ('(turse of tlu^ day a kind of warlike drama is enacted. 
Some of the populace parade the streets, littc(l oid< with the ol<l 
armor, as champions of the faith. Others appear dressed up as 
Moorisli warriors. A tent is pitched in the public s(|uare, in- 
('losing an altar with an ima;z:e of the Vir^^in. TIh! (!hris(ian 
warriors approach to perform their d<^votions ; the inlidels sur- 
round the tent to preveid, their eidrancui ; a, mock liii,ht (Misues ; 
the condtatants somi^timcs for;i;et that they are merely playin<^ 
a j)ai't, and dry blows of grievous wei<i,ld; are apt to be OX- 
i'han|:;e(l. 'V\\v. contest, howcvci', invaiiably terminates in favor 



128 THE ALHAMBRA 

of the good cause. The Moors are defeated and taken prisoners 
The image of the Virgin, rescued from thraldom, is elevated in 
triumph ; a grand procession succeeds, in which the conqueroi's fig- 
ure with great applause and vainglory; while their captives are led 
in chains, to the evident delight and edification of the spectators. 

These celebrations are heavy drains on the treasuries of these 
petty communities, and have sometimes to be suspended for 
want of funds ; but, when times grow better, or sufficient money 
has been hoarded for the purpose, they are resumed with new 
zeal and prodigality/ -^a(^- -- 

Mateo informed me that he had occasionally assisted at these 
fetes and taken a part in the combats ; but always on the true 
faith. ^'- Porque SeJior,''^ added the ragged descendant of the Car- 
dinal Ximenes, tapping his breast with something of an air, — 
^^ poirque Senior, soy Christiano viejo.''' 

1 See a more detailed account of the exploit in the chronicle of 
the Conquest of Granada. 



LOCAL TRADITIONS 

The common people of Spain have an Oriental passion for 
story-telling, and are fond of the marvellous. They will gather 
round the doors of their cottages in summer evenings, or in the 
great cavernous chimney-corners of the ventas in the winter, and 
listen with insatiable delight to miraculous legends of saints, 
perilous adventures of travellers, and daring exploits of robbers 
and contrabandistas. The wild and solitary character of the 
country, the imperfect diffusion of knowledge, the scarceness 
of general topics of conversation, and the romantic, adventurous 
life that every one leads in a land where travelling is yet in its 
primitive state, all contribute to cherish this love of oral narra- 
tion, find to produce a strong infusion of the extravagant and 
incredible. There is no theme, however, more prevalent and 



LOCAL TRADITIONS 129 

popular than that of treasures buried by the Moors ; it pervades 
the whole country. In traversing the wild sierras, the scenes 
of ancient foray and exploit, you cannot see a Moorish atalaya, or 
watch-tower, perched among the cliffs, or beetling above its rock- 
built village, but your muleteer, on being closely questioned, will 
suspend the smoking of his cigarillo to tell some tale of Moslem 
gold buried beneath its foundations; nor is there a ruined alcazar 
in a city but has its golden tradition, handed down from genera- 
tion to generation among the poor people of the neighborhood. 

These, like most popular fictions, have sprung from some 
scanty groundwork of fact. During the wars between Moor 
and Christian, which distracted this country for centuries, 
towns and castles were liable frequently and suddenly to change 
owners, and the inhabitants, during sieges and assaults, were 
fain to bury their money and jewels in the earth, or hide them in 
vaults and wells, as is often done at the present day in tlie des- 
potic and belligerent countries of the East. At the time of the 
expulsion of the Moors also, many of them concealed their most 
precious effects, hoping that their exile would be but temporary, 
and that they would be enabled to return and retrieve their 
treasures at some future day. It is certain that from time to 
time hoards of gold and silver coin have been accidentally digged 
up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruins of Moorish 
fortresses and habitations ; and it requires but a few facts of 
the kind to give birth to a thousand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally something of an 
'Oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture of the Arabic 
and the Gothic which seems to me to cliaracterize everything 
in Spain, and especially in its southern provinces. The hidden 
wealth is always laid under magic spell, and secured by charm 
and talisman. Sometimes it is guarded by uncouth monsters or 
fiery dragons, sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit by it in 
armor, with drawn swords, but motionless as statues, main- 
taining a sleepless watch for ages. 



130 THE ALHAMBRa 

The Alhambra of course, from the peculiar circumstances of 
its history, is a strong-hold for popular fictions of the kind; 
and various relics, digged up from time to time, have contrib- 
uted to strengthen them. At one time an earthen vessel was 
found containing Moorish coins and the skeleton of a cock, 
which, according to the opinion of certain shrewd inspectors, 
must have been buried alive. At another time a vessel was 
dug up containing a great scarabaius or beetle of baked clay, 
covered with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a pro- 
digious amulet of occult virtues. In this way the wits of the 
ragged brood who inhabit the Alhambra have been set wool- 
gathering, until there is not a hall, nor tower, nor vault, of the 
old fortress, that has not been made the scene of some mar- 
vellous tradition. Having, I trust, in the preceding papers 
made the reader in some degree familiar with the localities of 
the Alhambra, I shall now launch out more largely into the 
wonderful legends connected with it, and which I have dili- 
gently wrought into shape and form, from various legendary 
scraps and hints picked up in the course of my perambulations, 
— in the same manner that an antiquary works out a regular 
historical document from a few scattered letters of an almost 
defeced inscription. 

If anything in these legends should shock the faith of the 
over-scrupulous reader, he must remember the nature of the 
place, and make due allowances. He must not expect here 
the same laws of probability that govern commonplace scenes 
and every-day life ; he must remember that he treads the halls 
of an enchanted palace, and that all is " haunted ground." 



THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK 

On the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the highest 
part of Granada, and which rises from the narrow valley of the 



THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK 13i 

Oarro, directly opposite to the Alhambra, stands all that is left 
of what was once a royal palace of the Moors. It has, in fact, 
fallen into such obscurity, that it cost me much trouble to find 
it, though aided in my researches by the sagacious and all- 
knowing Mateo Ximenes.'^This edifice has borne for centuries 
the name of "The House of the Weathercock" {La casa del 
Gallo de Viento), from a bronze figure on one of its turrets, in 
ancient times, of a warrior on horseback, and turning with every 
breeze. This weathercock was considered by the Moslems of 
' Granada a portentous talisman. According to some traditions, 
it bore the following Arabic inscription: 

Calet el Bedici Aben Habuz, 
Quidat ehahet Lindabuz. 

Which has been rendered in Spanish : 



Dice el sabio Aben Habuz, 
Que asi se defieude el Anduluz. 



And into English : 



In this way, says Aben Habuz the Wise, 
Andaluz guards against surprise. 

This Aben Habuz, according to some of the old Moorish 
chronicles, was a captain in the invading army of Taric, one 
of the conquerors of Spain, who left him as Alcayde of Granada. 
He is supposed to have intended this effigy as a perpetual warn- 
ing to the Moslems of Andaluz, that, surrounded by foes, their 
safety depended upon their being always on their guard and 
ready for the field. 

Others, among whom is the Christian historian Marmol, 
affirms "Badis Aben Habus" to have been a Moorish sultan 
of Granada, and that the weathercock was intended as a per- 
petual admonition of the instability of Moslem power, bearins; 
tlie following words in Arabic : 



132 THE ALHAMBRA 

•• Thus Ibn Habus al badise predicts Andalus shall one daj 
vanish and pass away." ^ 

Another version of this portentous inscription is given by a 
Moslem historian, on the authority of Sidi Hasan, a faquir who 
flourished about the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and who 
was present at the taking down of the weathercock, when the 
old Kassaba was undergoing repairs. 

*'I saw it," says the venerable faquir, "with my own eyes; 
it was of a heptagonal shape, and had the following inscriptioD 
in verse : 

"The palace at fair Granada presents a talisman." 

" The horseman, though a solid body, turns with every wind." 

" This to a wise man reveals a mystery. In a little while 
comes a calamity to ruin both the palace and its owner." 

In effect it was not long after this meddling with the por- 
tentous weathercock that the following event occurred. As 
old Muley Abul Hassan, the king of Granada, was seated under 
a sumptuous pavilion, reviewing his troops, who paraded be- 
fore him in armor of polished steel and gorgeous silken robes, 
mounted on fleet steeds, and equipped with swords, spears, and 
shields embossed with gold and silver, — suddenly a tempest 
was seen hurrying from the southwest. In a little while black 
clouds overshadowed the heavens and burst forth with a deluge 
of rain. Torrents came roaring down from the mountains, 
bringing with them rocks and trees ; the Darro overflowed its 
banks ; mills were swept away, bridges destroyed, gardens 
laid waste ; the inundation rushed into the city, undermining 
houses, drowning their inhabitants, and ovei'flowing even the 
square of the Great Mosque. The people rushed in afl'right to 
the mosques to implore the mercy of Allah, regarding this 
uproar of the elements as the harbinger of dreadful calamities ; 
and, indeed, according to the Arabian historian Al Makkari, it 
was but a type and prelude of the direful war which ended in 
the downfall of the Moslem kingdom of Granada. 



LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 133 

1 have thus given historic authorities sufficient to show the 
portentous mysteries connected vv^ith the House of the Weather- 
cock, and its talismanic horseman. 

I now proceed to relate still more surprising things about 
Aben Habuz and his palace ; for tlie truth of which, should 
any doubt be entertained, I refer the dubious reader to Mateo 
Ximenes and his fellow-historiographers of the Alhambra. 

1 Marmol, Hist. Behellion of the Moors. 



LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 

In old times, many hundred years ago, there was a Moorish 
king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the kingdom of 
Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that is to say, one who, 
having in his more youthful days led a life of constant foray and 
depredation, now that he was grown feeble and superannuated, 
" languished for repose," and desired nothing more tlian to live 
at peace with all the world, to husband his laurels, and to en- 
joy in quiet the possessions he had wrested from his neighbors. 

It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and pacific 
old monarch had young rivals to deal with ; princes full of his 
early passion for fame and fighting, and who were disposed to 
call him to account for the scores he had run up with their 
fathers. Certain distant districts of his own territories, also, 
which during the days of his vigor he had treated with a high 
hand, were prone, now that he languished for repose, to rise in 
rebellion and threaten to invest him in his capital. Thus he 
had foes on every side ; and as Granada is surrounded by wild 
and craggy mountains, which hide the approach of an enemy, 
the unfortunate Aben Habuz was kept in a constant state of 
vigilance and alarm, not knowing in wliat quarter hostilities 
might break out. 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the mountains 



134 THE ALHAMBRA 

and stationed guards at every pass with orders to make fires bj 
night and smoke by day, on the approach of an enemy. His 
alert foes, baffling every precaution, would break out of some 
unthought-of ilefile, ravage his hinds beneath his very nose, and 
then make otf with prisoners and booty to the mountains. Was 
ever peaceable and retired conqueror in a more uncomfortable 
predicament ? 

While Aben Habuz was harassed by these perplexities and 
molestations, an ancient Arabian physician arrived at his court. 
His gray beard descended to his girdle, and he had every mark 
of extreme age, yet he had travelled almost the whole way 
from Egypt on foot, with no other aid than a staff, marked 
with hieroglyphics. His fame had preceded him. His name 
was Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub; he is said to have lived ever 
since the days of Mahomet, and to be son of Abu Ayub ; the 
last of the companions of the Prophet. He had, when a child, 
followed the conquering army of Amru into Egypt, where he 
had remained many years studying the dark sciences, and par- 
ticularly magic, among the Egyptian priests. 

It was, moreover, said that he had found out the secret of 
prolonging life, by means of which he had arrived to the great 
age of upwards of two centuries, though, as he did not discover 
the secret until well stricken in years, he could only perpetuate 
his gray hairs and wrinkles. 

This wonderful old man was honorably entertained by the 
king ; who, like most superannuated monarchs, began to take 
physicians into great favor. He would have assigned him an 
•apartment in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a cave in 
the side of the hill which rises above the city of Granada, being 
the same on which the Alhambra has since been built. He 
caused the cave to be enlarged so as to form a spacious and lofty 
hall, with a circular hole at the top, through which, as through 
a well, he could see the heavens and behold the stars even at 
mid-day. The walls of this hall were covered with Egyptian 



THE MARVEL OF BORSA 135 

Hieroglyphics with caoanstic symbols, and with the figures of the 
stars in their signs. This iiall he furnished with many implements, 
fabricated under liis directions by cunning artificers of Granada, 
but the occult properties of which were known only to himself. 

In a little while the sage Ibraliim became the bosom counsellor 
of the king, Avho applied to him for advice in every emergency. 
Aben llabuz was once inveighing against the injustice of his 
neighbors, and bewailing the restless vigilance he had to ob- 
serve to guard himself against their invasions ; when he had 
finished, tlie astrologer remained silent for a moment, and then 
replied, "Know, king, that, when I was in Egypt, I beheld 
a great marvel devised by a pagan priestess of old. On a 
mountaiuj above the city of Borsa, and overlooking the great 
valley of the Nile, was a figure of a ram, and above it a figure 
of a cock, both of molten brass, and turning upon a pivot. 
Whenever the country was threatened with invasion, the ram 
would turn in the direction of the enemy, and the cock would 
crow ; upon this the inhabitants of the city knew of the danger, 
and of the quarter from which it was approaching, and could 
take timely means to guard against it." 

" God is great ! " exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz, " what 
a treasure would be such a ram to keep an eye upon these 
mountains around me ; and then such a cock, to crow in time 
of danger ! Allah Akbar ! how securely I might sleep in my 
palace with such sentinels on the top ! " 

The astrologer waited until the ecstasies of the king had sub- 
sided, and then proceeded. 

" After the victorious Amru (may he rest in peace !) had 
finished his conquest of Egypt, I remained among the priests of 
the land, studying the rites and ceremonies of their idolatrous 
fjiith, and seeking to make myself master of the hidden knowl- 
edge for which they are renowned. I was one day seated on 
tlie banks of the Nile, conversing with an ancient *priest, when 
be pointed to the mighty pyramids which rose like mountains 



136 THE ALHAMBRA 

out of the neighboring desert. ' All that we can teach thee, 
said he, ' is nothing to the knowledge locked up in those mighty 
piles. In the centre of the central pyramid is a sepulchral 
chamber, in which is inclosed the mummy of the high -priest 
who aided in rearing that stupendous pile ; and with him is 
buried a wondrous book of knowledge, containing all the secrets 
of magic and art. This book was given to Adam after his fall, 
and was handed down from generation to generation to King 
Solomon the Wise, and by its aid he built the Temple of 
Jerusalem. How it came into the possession of the builder of 
the pyramids is known to him alone who knows all things.' 

" When I heard these words of the Egyptian priest, my 
heart burned to get possession of that book. I could command 
the services of many of the soldiers of our conquering army, and 
of a number of the native Egyptians : with these I set to work, 
and pierced the solid mass of the pyramid, until, after great toil, I 
came upon one of its interior and hidden passages. Following 
this up, and threading a fearful labyrinth, I penetrated into the 
very heart of the pyramids, even to the sepulchral chamber, 
where the mummy of the high-priest had lain for ages. I broke 
through the outer cases of the mummy, unfolded its many wrap- 
pers and bandages, and at length found the precious volume on its 
bosom. I seized it with a trembling hand, and groped my way out 
of the pyramid, leaving tlie mummy in its dark and silent sepul- 
chre, there to await the final day of resurrection and judgment." 

"Son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed Aben Habuz, "thou hast 
been a great traveller, and seen marvellous things ; but of what 
avail to me is the secret of the pyramid, and the volume of 
knowledge of the wise Solomon 1 '• 

"This it is, king! By the study of that book I am in- 
structed in all magic arts, and can command the assistance of 
genii to accomplish my plans. The mystery of the Talisman 
of Borsa is therefore familiar to me, and such a talisman can I 
make, nay, one of greater virtues." 



THE WARLIKE TALISMAN 137 

- wise son of Abu Ayub," cried Aben Habuz, "better were 
such a talisman than all the watch-towers on the nils and 
sentinels upon the borders. Give me such^a safeguard, and tlie 
riches of my treasury are at thy command." 

The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify the wishes 
of the monarch. He caused a great tower to be erected upon 
the top of the royal palace, which stood on the brow of the hill 
of the Albaycin. The tower was built of stones brought from 
E-ypt, and taken, it is said, from one of the pyramids. In the 
upper part of the tower was a circular hall, with windows look- 
inc' towards every point of the compass, and before each win- 
dow was a table, on which was arranged, as on a chess-board, 
a mimic army of horse and foot, with the effigy of the potentate 
that ruled in that direction, all carved of wood To each ot 
these tables there was a small lance, no bigger than a bodkin 
on which were engraved certain Chaldaic characters. This hail 
was kept constantly closed, by a gate of brass, with a great 
lock of steel, the key of which was in possession of the king._ 

On the top of the tower was a bronze figure ot a Moorish 
horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and his 
lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this horseman was 
towards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but if any toe 
were at hand, the figure would turn in that direction, and would 
level the lance as if for action. 

When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all im- 
patient to try its virtues, and longed as ardent y for an inva- 
sion as he had ever sighed after repose. His desire was soon 
^ratified. Tidings were brought, early one morning, by the 
sentinel appointed to watch the tower, that the face o. ^^ 
bronze horseman was turned towards the mountams of Elvira, 
and tliat his lance pointed directly against the Pass of Lope. 

'' Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and all brran- 
ada be put on the alert," said Aben Habuz. 

"0 king," said the astrologer, "let not your city be dit. 



X 



138 • THE ALHAMBRA 

quieted, nor your warriors called to arms ; we need no aid of 
force to deliver you from your enemies. Dismiss your attend- 
ants, and let us proceed alone to the secret hall of the tower." 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the tower, 
leaning on the arm of the still more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu 
Ayub. They unlocked the brazen door and entered. The win- 
dow that looked towards the Pass of Lope was open. " In 
this direction," said the astrologer, "lies the danger; approach, 
king, and behold the mystery of the table." 

King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chess-board on 
which were arranged the small wooden effigies, when, to his 
surprise, he perceived that they were all in motion. The horses 
pranced and curveted, the warriors brandished their weapons, 
and tliere was a faint sound of drums and trumpets, and the 
clang of arms, and neighing of steeds ; but all no louder, nor 
more distinct, than the hum of the bee, or the summer-fly, in 
the drowsy ear of him who lies at noontide in the shade. 

"Behold, king," said the astrologer, "a proof that thy 
enemies are even now in the field. They must be advancing 
through yonder mountains, by the Pass of Lope. Would you 
produce a panic and confusion amongst them, and cause them 
to retreat without loss of life, strike these effigies with the but- 
end of this magic lance ; would you cause bloody feud and car- 
nage, strike with the point.'" 

A livid streak passed across the countenance of Aben Habuz ; 
he seized the lance with trembling eagerness ; his gray beard 
wagged with exultation as he tottered towards the table : " Son 
of Abu Ayub," exclaimed he, in chuckling tone, " I think we 
will have a little blood ! " 

So saying, he thrust the magic lance into some of the pigmy 
effigies, and belabored others with the but-end, upon which the 
former fell as dead upon the board, and the rest, turning upon 
each other, began, pell-mell, a chance-medley fight. 

It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the hand of 



THE HERMITAGE 139 

the most pacific of monarchs, and prevent him from absolutely 
exterminating his foes ; at length he prevailed upon him to 
leave the tower, and to send out scouts to the mountains by 
the Pass of Lope. 

They returned with the intelligence that a Christian army 
had advanced through the heart of the Sierra, almost within 
sight of Granada, where a dissension had broken out among 
them ; they had turned their weapons against each other, and 
after much slaughter had returned over the border. 

Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving the 
efficacy of the talisman. " At length," said he, " I shall lead 
a life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies in my power. 
wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in reward 
for such a blessing ? " 

"The wants of an old man and a philosopher, king, are 
few and simple ; grant me but the means of fitting up my cave 
as a suitable hermitage, and I am content." 

" How noble is the moderation of the truly wise ! " exclaimed 
Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness of the recom- 
pense. He summoned his treasurer, and bade him dispense 
whatever sums might be required by Ibrahim to complete and 
furnish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers 
hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apartments 
connected with his astrological hall ; these he caused to be fur- 
nished with luxurious ottomans and divans, and the walls to be 
hung with the richest silks of Damascus. "'I am an old man," 
said he, " and can no longer rest my bones on stone couches, and 
tliese damp walls require covering." 

He had baths too constructed, and provided with all kinds of 
perfumes and aromatic oils. "For a bath," said he, "is neces- 
sary to counteract the rigidity of age, and to restore freshness 
and suppleness to the frame withered by study." 

He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable silver 



140 THE ALHAMBRA 

and crystal lamps, which he filled with a fragrant oil prepared 
according to a receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt. 
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and diffused a soft radiance 
like the tempered light of day. "The light of the sun," said 
he, "is too gairish and violent for the eyes of an old man, and 
the light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies of a 
philosopher." 

The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums daily 
demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he carried his complaints 
to the king. The royal word, however, had been given ; Aben 
Habuz shrugged his shoulders : "We must have patience," said 
he ; " this old man has taken his idea of a philosophic retreat 
from the interior of the pyramids, and of the vast ruins of 
Egypt ; but all things have an end, and so will the furnishing 
of his cavern." 

The king was in the right ; the hermitage was at length 
complete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. The 
astrologer expressed himself perfectly content, and, shutting 
himself up, remained for three wliole days buried in study. 
At the end of that time he appeared again before the treasurer. 
"One thing more is necessary," said he, "one trifling solace for 
the intervals of mental labor." 

" wise Ibrahim, I am bound to furnish everything necessary 
for thy solitude ; what more dost thou require ? " 

" I would fain have a few dancing- women." 

" Dancing-women ! " echoed the treasurer, with surprise. 

"Dancing- women," replied the sage, gravely; "and let them 
be young and fair to look upon ; for the sight of youth and 
beauty is refreshing. A few will suffice, for I am a philosopher 
of simple habits and easily satisfied," 

While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub passed his 
time thus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz 
carried on furious campaigns in effigy in his tower. It was a 
glorious thing for an old man, like himself, of quiet habits, to 



THE SOLACE OF A PHILOSOPHER 141 

have war made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself in his 
chamber by brushing away whole armies like so many swarms 
of flies. 

For a time he rioted in the indulgence of his humors, and 
even taunted and insulted his neighbors, to induce them to 
make incursions ; but by degrees they grew wary from repeated 
disasters, until no one ventured to invade his territories. For 
many months the bronze horseman remained on the peace 
establishment, with his lance elevated in the air; and the 
worthy old monarch began to repine at the want of his accus- 
tomed sport, and to grow peevish at his monotonous tranquillity. 

At length, one day, the talismanic horseman veered suddenly 
round, and lowering his lance, made a dead point towards the 
mountains of Guadix. Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but 
the magic table in that direction remained quiet : not a single 
warrior was in motion. Perplexed at the circumstance, he sent 
forth a troop of horse to scour the mountains and reconnoitrCo 
They returned after three days' absence. 

"We have searched every mountain pass," said they, "but 
not a helm nor a spear was stirring. All that we have found 
in the course of our foray, was a Christian damsel of surpassing 
beauty, sleeping at noontide beside a fountain, whom we have 
brought away captive." 

"A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
his eyes gleaming with animation; "let her be conducted into 
my presence." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his pres- 
ence. She was arrayed with all the luxury of ornament that 
had prevailed among the Gothic Spaniards at the time of the 
Arabian conquest. Pearls of dazzling whiteness were entwined 
with her raven tresses ; and jewels sparkled on her forehead, 
rivalling the lustre of her eyes. Around her neck was a golden 
chain, to which was suspended a silver lyre, which hung by her 
side. 



142 THE ALHAMBRA 

The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks of fir ^ 
on the withered, yet combustible, heart of Aben Habuz ; the 
swimming voluptuousness of her gait made his senses reel. 
" Fairest of women, " cried he, with rapture, " who and what 
art thou ? " 

" The daughter of one of the Gothic princes, who but lately 
ruled over this land. The armies of my father have .been de- 
stroyed, as if by magic, among these mountains ; he has been 
driven into exile, and his daughter is a captive." 

" Bewiire, king ! " whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, 
"this may be one of those northern sorceresses of whom we 
have heard, who assume the most seductive forms to beguile 
the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in her eye, and sor- 
cery in every movement. Doubtless this is the enemy pointed 
out by the talisman." 

" Son of Abu Ayub," replied the king, " thou art a wise man, 
I grant, a conjurer for aught I know ; but thou art little versed 
in the ways of woman. In that knowledge will I yield to no 
man ; no, not to the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding the 
number of his wives and concubines. As to this damsel, I see 
no harm in her ; she is fair to look upon, and finds favor in my 
eyes." 

" Hearken, king ! " replied the astrologer. " I have given 
thee many victories by means of my talisman, but have never 
shared any of the spoil. Give me then this stray captive, to 
solace me in my solitude with her silver lyre. If she be in- 
deed a sorceress, I have counter spells that set her charms at 
defiance." 

" What ! more women ! " cried Aben Habuz. ** Hast thou 
not already dancing-women enough to solace thee ? " 

"Dancing-women have I, it is true, but no singing-women. 
I would fain have a little minstrelsy to refresh my mind when 
weary with the toils of study." 

"A truce with thy hermit cravings," said the king, im- 



THE CAPTIVE BEAUTY 143 

patiently. "This damsel have I marked for my own. I see 
much comfort in her : even such comfort as David, the father 
of Solomon the Wise, found in the society of Abishag the 
Shunamite." 

Further solicitations and remonstrances of the astrologer only 
provoked a more peremptory reply from the monarch, and they 
parted in high displeasure. The sage shut himself up in his 
hermitage to brood over his disappointment ; ere he departed, 
however, he gave the king one more warning to beware of his 
dangerous captive. But where is the old man in love that will 
listen to counsel? Aben Habuz resigned himself to the full 
sway of his passion. His only study was how to render him- 
self amiable in the eyes of the Gothic beauty. He had not 
youth to recommend him, it is true, but then he had riches ; 
and when a lover is old, he is generally generous. The Zacatin 
of Granada was ransacked for the most precious merchandise of 
the East ; silks, jewels, precious gems, exquisite perfumes, all 
that Asia and Africa yielded of rich and rare, were lavished 
upon the princess. All kinds of spectacles and festivities were 
devised for her entertainment ; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, 
bull-fights ; — Granada for a time was a scene of perpetual pa- 
geant. The Gothic princess regarded all this splendor with tlie 
air of one accustomed to magnificence. She received everything 
as a homage due to her rank, or rather to her beauty ; for 
beauty is more lofty in its exactions even than rank. Nay, she 
seemed to take a secret pleasure in exciting the monarch to ex- 
penses that made his treasury shrink, and then treating his 
extravagant generosity as a mere matter of course. With all 
his assiduity and munificence, also, the venerable lover could 
not flatter himself that he had made any impression on her 
heart. She never frowned on him, it is true, but then she 
never smiled. Whenever he began to plead his passion, she 
struck her silver lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound. 
In an instant the monarch began to nod ; a drowsiness stole 



144 THE ALHAMBRA 

over him, and he gradually sank into a sleep, from which he 
awoke wonderfully refreshed, but perfectly cooled for the time 
of his passion. This was very baffling to his suit ; but then 
these slumbers were accompanied by agreeable dreams, which 
completely enthralled the senses of the drowsy lover ; so he 
continued to dream on, while all Granada scoffed at his infatua- 
tion, and groaned at the treasures lavished for a song. 

At length a danger burst on the head of AhQw Habuz, 
against which his talisman yielded him no warning. An in- 
surrection broke out in his very capital; his palace was sur- 
rounded by an armed rabble, who menaced his life and the life 
of his Christian paramour. A spark of his ancient warlike 
spirit was awakened in the breast of the monarch. At the head 
of a handful of his guards he sallied forth, put the rebels to 
flight, and crushed the insurrection in the bud. 

When quiet was again restored, he sought the astrologer, 
who still remained shut up in his hermitage, chewing the bitter 
cud of resentment. 

Aben Habuz approached him with a conciliatory tone. " 
wise son of Abu Ayub, " said he, " well didst thou predict dan- 
gers to me from this captive beauty : tell me then, thou who art 
so quick at foreseeing peril, what I should do to avert it." 

"Put from thee the infidel damsel who is the cause." 

" Sooner would I part with my kingdom, " cried Aben 
Habuz. 

"Thou art in danger of losing both," replied the astrologer. 

" Be not harsh and angry, most profound of philosophers ; 
consider the double distress of a monarch and a lover, and de- 
vise some means of protecting me from the evils by which I am 
menaced. I care not for grandeur, I care not for power, I lan- 
guish only for repose ; would that I had some quiet retreat 
where I might take refuge from the world, and all its cares, 
and pomps, and troubles, and devote the remainder of my days 
to tranquillity and love. 



THE GARDEN OF IREM 145 

The astrologer regarded him for a moment from under his 
bushy eyebrows. 

" And what wouldst thou give, if I could provide thee such 
a retreat ? " 

"Thou shouldst name thy own reward; and whatever it 
might be, if within the scope of my power, as my soul liveth, 
it should be thine." 

" Thou hast heard, king, of the garden of Irem, one of the 
prodigies of Arabia the happy." 

" I have heard of that garden ; it is recorded in the Koran, 
even in the chapter entitled 'The Dawn of Day.' I have, 
moreover, heard marvellous things related of it by pilgrims 
Avho had been to Mecca ; but I considered them wild fables, 
such as travellers are wont to tell who have visited remote 
countries." 

" Discredit not, king, the tales of travellers," rejoined the 
astrologer, gravely, "for they contain precious rarities of knowl- 
edge brought from the ends of the earth. As to the palace and 
garden of Irem, what is generally told of them is true ; I have 
seen them with mine own eyes ; — listen to my adventure, for 
it has a bearing upon the object of your request. 

" In my younger days, w^hen a mere Arab of the desert, I 
tended my father's camels. In traversing the desert of Aden, 
one of them strayed from the rest, and was lost. I searched 
after it for several days, but in vain, until, wearied and 
faint, I laid myself down at noontide, and slept under a 
palm-tree by the side of a scanty well. When I awoke I found 
myself at the gate of a city. I entered, and beheld noble 
streets, and squares, and market-places ; but all were silent 
and without an inhabitant. I wandered on until I came to a 
sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned with fountains and 
fish-ponds, and groves and flowers, and orchards laden with 
delicious fruit ; but still no one was to be seen. Upon which, 
appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to depart; and, after 



i4t> THE ALHAMBRA 

issuing forth at the gate of the city, I turned to look upon the 
phice, but it was no longer to be seen : nothing but the silent 
.iesert extended before my eyes. 

" In the neigliborhood I met with an aged dervise, learned 
in the tiaditions and secrets of the land, and related to him 
what had befallen me. 'This,' said he, 'is the far-famed garden 
of Irem, one of the wonders of the desert. It only appears at 
times to some wanderer like thyself, gladdening him with the 
sight of towers and palaces and garden-walls overhung with 
richly laden fruit trees, and then vanishes, leaving nothing but 
a lonely desert. And this is the story of it. In old times, when 
this country was inhabited by the Addites, King Sheddad, the 
son of Ad, the great grandson of Noah, founded here a splendid 
city. When it was finished, and he saw its grandeur, his heart 
was puffed up with pride and arrogance, and he determined to 
build a royal palace, with gardens which should rival all related 
in the Koran of the celestial paradise. But the curse of heaven 
fell upon him for his presumption. He and his subjects were 
swept from the earth, and his splendid city, and palace, and 
gardens, were laid under a perpetual spell, which hides them 
from human sight, excepting that they are seen at intervals, by 
way of keeping his sin in perpetual remembrance.' 

" This story, king, and the w^onders I had seen, ever dwelt 
in my mind ; and in after years, when I had been in Egypt, and 
was possessed of the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, 
I determined to return and revisit the garden of Irem. I did 
so, and found it revealed to my instructed sight. I took pos- 
session of the palace of Sheddad, and passed several days in his 
mock paradise. The genii who watch over the place were obe- 
dient to my magic power, and revealed to me the spells by 
which the whole garden had been, as it were, conjured into ex- 
istence, and by which it was rendered invisible. Such a palace 
and garden, king, can I make for thee, even here, on the 
mountain above thy city. Do I not know all the secret spells ? 



THE COMPACT 147 

and am I not in possession of the book of knowledge of Solomon 
the Wise?" 

''0 wise son of Abu Ayub!" exclaimed Aben Habiiz, 
trembling with eagerness, "thou art a traveller indeed, and 
hast seen and learned marvellous things ! Contrive me such 
a paradise, and ask any reward, even to the half of my 
kingdom." 

"Alas!" replied the other, "thou knowest I am an old man, 
and a philosopher, and easily satisfied ; all the reward I ask is 
the first beast of burden, with its load, which shall enter the 
magic portal of the palace." 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and 
the astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hill, im- 
mediately above his subterranean hermitage, he caused a great 
gateway or barbican to be erected, opening through the centre 
of a strong tower. 

There was an outer vestibule or porch, with a lofty arch, and 
within it a portal secured by massive gates. On the keystone 
of the portal the astrologer, with his own hand, wrought the 
figure of a huge key ; and on the keystone of the outer arch of 
the vestibule, which was loftier than that of the portal, he 
carved a gigantic hand. These were potent talismans, * over 
which he repeated many sentences in an unknown tongue. 

When this gateway was finished, he shut himself up for two 
days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations ; on 
the third he ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on its 
summit. At a late hour of the night he came down, and pre- 
sented himself before Aben Habuz. "At length, king," said 
he, "my labor is accomplished. On the summit of the hill 
stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the head of 
man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains sumptu- 
ous halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains, and 
fragrant baths ; in a word, the whole mountain is converted 
into a paradise. Like the garden of Irem, it is protected by a 



148 THE ALHAMBRA 

mighty charm, which hides it from the view and search of mor 
tills, excepting such as possess the secret of its talismans." 

" Enough ! " cried Aben Habuz, joyfully, " to-morrow morn- 
ing with the first light we will ascend and take possession." 
The happy monarch slept but little that night. Scarcely had 
the rays of the sun begun to play about the snowy summits of 
the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and, accom- 
panied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and 
narrow road leading up the hill. Beside him, on a white 
palfrey, rode the Gothic princess, her whole dress sparkling 
with jewels, while round her neck was suspended her silver 
lyre. The astrologer walked on the other side of the king, 
assisting his steps with his hieroglyphic staflf, for he never 
mounted steed of any kind. 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the palace bright- 
ening above him, and the embowered terraces of its gardens 
stretching along the heights ; but as yet nothing of the kind 
was to be descried. " That is the mystery and safeguard of 
the place," said the astrologer, "nothing can be discerned until 
you have passed the spell-bound gateway, and been put in pos- 
session of the place." 

As they approached the gateway, the astrologer paused, and 
pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key carved upon 
the portal of the arch. " These," said he, "are the talismans 
which guard the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder hand 
shall reach down and seize that key, neither mortal power nor 
magic artifice can prevail against the lord of this mountain." 

While Aben Habuz was gazing, with open mouth and silent 
wonder, at these mystic talismans, the palfrey of the princess 
proceeded, and bore her in at the portal, to the very centre of 
the barbican. 

"Behold," cried the astrologer, "my promised reward; the 
first animal with its burden which should enter the magic 
gateway." 



THE SUBTERRANEAN HALL 149 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry of 
the ancient man ; but when he found him to be in earnest, his 
gray beard trembled with indignation. 

"Son of Abu Ayub,'' said he, sternly, "what equivocation 
is this ? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise : the first 
beast of burden, with its load, that should enter this portal. 
Take the strongest mule in my stables, load it with the 
most precious things of my treasury, and it is thine ; but 
dare not raise thy thoughts to her who is the delight of 
my heart." 

" What need I of wealth ? " cried the astrologer, scornfully ; 
" have I not the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, and 
through it the command of the secret treasures of the earth? 
The princess is mine by right ; thy royal word is pledged ; I 
claim her as my own." 

The princess looked down haughtily from her palfrey, and a 
light smile of scorn curled her rosy lip at this dispute between 
two gray-beards for the possession of youth and beauty. The 
wrath of the monarch got the better of his discretion. " Base 
son of the desert," cried he, "thou mayst be master of many 
arts, but know me for thy master, and presume not to juggle 
with thy king." 

" My master ! my king ! " echoed the astrologer, — " the 
monarch of a mole-hill to claim sway over him who possesses 
the talismans of Solomon ! Farewell, Aben Habuz ; reign 
over thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of fools ; for 
me, I. will laugh at thee in my philosophic retirement." 

So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the 
earth with his staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through 
the centre of the barbican. The earth closed over them, and 
no trace remained of the opening by which they had descended. 

Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time with astonishment. 
Recovering himself, he ordered a thousand workmen to dig, 
with pickaxe and spade, into the ground where the astrologer 



150 THE ALHAMBRA 

nad disappeared. They digged and digged, but in vain ; the 
flinty bosom of the hill resisted their implements ; or if they 
did penetrate a little way, the earth filled in again as fast as 
they threw it out, Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the 
cavern at the foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean pal- 
ace of the astrologer ; but it was nowhere to be found. Where 
once had been an entrance, was now a solid surface of primeval 
rock. With the disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub 
ceased the benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman re- 
mained fixed, with his face turned towards the hill, and his 
spear pointed to the spot wliere the astrologer had descended, 
as if there still lurked tlie deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. 

From time to time the sound of music, and the tones of a 
female voice, could be faintly heard from the bosom of the hill ; 
and a peasant one day brought word to the king, that in the 
preceding night he had found a fissure in tlie rock, by which he 
had crept in, until he looked down into a subterranean hall, in 
which sat the astrologer, on a magnificent divan, slumbering 
and nodding to the silver lyre of the princess, which seemed to 
hold a magic sway over his senses. 

Aben Habuz sought the fissure in the rock, but it was again 
closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth his rival, but all 
in vain. The spell of the hand and ke^'" was too potent to be 
counteracted by human power. As to the sununit of tlie 
mountain, tlie site of the promised palace and garden, it re- 
mained a naked waste ; either the boasted elysium was liidden 
from sight by enchantment, or was a mere fable of the astrolo- 
ger. The world charitably supposed the latter, and some used 
to call the place " The King s Folly " ; while others named it 
" The Fool's Paradise." 

To add to the cliagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbors whom 
he had defied and taunted, and cut up at his leisure while 
master of the talismanic horseman, finding him no longer pro- 
tected by magic spell, made inroads into liis territories from aU 



MAGIC SLUMBERS 151 

sides, and the remainder of the life of the most pacific of 
monarchs was a tissue of turmoils. 

At length Aben Habuz died, and was buried. Ages have since 
rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on the eventful moun- 
tain, and in some measure realizes tlie fabled delights of the garden 
of Irem. The spell-bound gateway still exists entire, protected 
no doubt by the mystic hand and key, and now forms the Gate 
of Justice, the grand entrance to the fortress. Under that gate- 
way, it is said, the old astrologer remains in his subterranean hall, 
nodding on his divan, lulled by the silver lyre of the princess. 

The old invalid sentinels who mount guard jit the gate hear 
the strains occasionally in the summer nights; and, yielding to 
their soporific power, doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so drowsy 
an influence pervades the place, that even those who watch by 
day may generally be seen nodding on the stone benches of the 
barbican, or sleeping under the neighboring trees ; so that in fact 
it is the drowsiest military post in all Christendom. All this, 
say tlie ancient legends, will endure from age to age. The prin- 
cess will remain captive to the astrologer ; and the astrologer, 
bound up in magic slumber by the princess, until the last day, 
unless t';o mystic hand shall grasp the fated key, and dispel the 
whole coarm of this enchanted mountain. 

NOTE TO THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 

Al Makkari, in his history of the Mohammedan Dynasties in 
Spain, cites from another Arabian writer an account of a talis- 
manic effigy somewhat similar to tlie one in the foregoing legend. 

In Cadiz, says he, there formerly stood a square tower upwards 
of one hundred cubits high, built of huge blocks of stone, fastened 
together with clamps of brass. On the top was the figure of a man, 
holding a staff in his right hand, his face turned to the Atlantic, 
and pointing with the forefinger of his left hand to the Straits of 
Gibraltar, it was said to have been set up in ancient times by the 
Gothic kings of Andalus, as a beacon or guide to navigators. The 
Moslems of Barbary and Andalus considered it a talisman which 



152 THE ALHAMBKA 

exercised a spell over the seas. Under its guidance, swarms ot 
piratical people of a nation called Majus, appeared on the coast in 
large vessels with a square sail in the bow, and another in the stern. 
Tliey came every six or seven years ; captured everything they met 
with on the sea; — guiiknl by the statue, they jjassed through the 
Straits into the iMediierranean, landed on the coasts of Andalus, 
laid everything waste with lire and sword ; and sometimes carried 
their dt>predations on the opposite coasts even as far as Syria. 

At length it came to pass in the time of the civil wars, a Moslem 
Admiral who had taken possession of Cadiz, hearing that the statue 
on top of the tower was of pure gold, had it lovvtn-ed to the ground 
and broken to pieces : when it pnwed to be of gilded brass. With 
the destruction of the iilol, the spell over the sea was at an end. 
From that time forward nothing more vv^as seen of the piratical 
people of the ocean, excepting that two of their barks were wrecked 
on the coast, one at Marsu-l-Majus (the port of Majus), the other 
close to the promontory of Al-Aghan. 

The maritime invaders above mentioned by Al Makkarimust have 
been the Northmen. 



VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA 

For nearly three months liad I enjoyed undisturbed n.y dreams 
of sovereignty in tlic Alhambni, — a longer term of qiaet than 
had been the lot of many of my predecessors. During this lapse 
of time the ]irogress of tlic season had wrought the usual change. 
On my arrival I had found everything in the freshness of May ; 
the foliage of the trees was still tender and transparent ; the pome- 
granate iiad not yet fehed its brilliant crimson blossoms ; the or- 
chards of the Xenil and the Darro were in full bloom ; the rocks 
were hung with wild flowers, and Granada seemed completely 
surrounded by a wilderness of roses ; among which innumerable 
nightingales sang, not merely in the night, but all day long. 

Now the advance of summer had withered the rose and si- 
lenced the nightingale, and the distant country began to look 
parched and sunburnt ; though a perennial verdure reigned im- 



VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA 153 

mediately round the city and in the deep narrow valleys at the 
foot of the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat of the 
weather, among which the most peculiar is the almost subterra- 
nean apartment of the baths. This still retains its ancient Ori- 
ental character, though stamped with the touching traces of 
decline. At the entrance, opening into a small court formerly 
adorned with flowers, is a hall, moderate in size, but light and 
graceful in architecture. It is overlooked by a small gallery sup- 
ported by marble pillars and moresco arches. An alabaster foun- 
tain in the centre of the pavement still throws up a jet of water 
to cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves with raised plat- 
forms, where the bathers, after their ablutions, reclined on cush- 
ions, soothed to voluptuous repose by the fragrance of the perfumed 
air and the notes of soft music from the gallery. Beyond this 
hall are the interior chambers, still more retired ; the mnctum 
sanctorum of female privacy ; for here the beauties of the Harem 
indulged in the luxury of the baths. A soft mysterious light 
reigns through the place, admitted through small apertures 
(lumbreras) in the vaulted ceiling. The traces of ancient ele- 
gance are still to be seen ; and the alabaster baths in which the 
sultanas once reclined. The prevailing obscurity and silence have 
made these vaults a favorite resort of bats, who nestle during the 
day in the dark nooks and corners, and on being disturbed, flit 
mysteriously about the twilight chambers, heightening, in an 
indescribable degree, their air of desertion and decay. 

In this cool and elegant, though dilapidated retreat, which had 
the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I passed the sultry hours 
of the day as summer advanced, emerging toward sunset ; and 
bathing, or rather swimming, at night in the great reservoir of 
the main court. In this way I was enabled in a measure to 
counteract the relaxing and enervating influence of the climate. 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, came at length 
to an end. I was roused one morning by the report of fire- 



154 THE ALHAMBRA 

arms, which reverberated among the towers as if the castle had 
been taken by surprise. On sallying forth, I found an old cava- 
lier with a number of domestics in possession of the Hall of 
Ambassadors. He was an ancient count who had come up 
from his palace in Granada to pass a short time in the Alham- 
bra for the benefit of purer air ; and who, being a veteran and 
inveterate sportsman, was endeavoring to get an appetite for 
his breakfast by shooting at swallows from the balconies. It 
was a harmless amusement ; for though, by the alertness of his 
attendants in loading his pieces, he was enabled to keep up a 
brisk fire, I could not accuse him of the death of a single swal- 
low. Nay, the birds themselves seemed to enjoy the sport, and 
to deride his want of skill, skimming in circles close to the bal- 
conies, and twittering as they darted by. 

The arrival of this old gentleman changed essentially the 
aspect of affairs, but caused no jealousy nor collision. We 
tacitly shared the empire between us, like the last kings of 
Granada, excepting that we maintained a most amicable alliance. 
He reigned absolute over the court of the Lions and its adjacent 
halls, while I maintained peacefid possession of the regions of the 
baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. We took our meals to- 
gether under the arcades of the court, where the fountains cooled 
the air, and bubbling rills ran along the channels of the marble 
pavement. 

In the evenings a domestic circle would gather about the 
worthy old cavalier. The countess, his wife by a second mar- 
riage, would come up from the city accompanied by her step- 
daughter Carmen, an only child, a charming little being, still 
in. lier girlish years. Then there were always some of his 
official dependants, his chaplain, his lawyer, his secretary, his 
steward, and other officers and agents of his extensive posses- 
sions, who brought him up the news or gossip of the city, and 
formed his evening party of tresillo or ombre. Thus he held a 
kind of domestic court, where each one paid him deference, and 



LA NINA 155 

sought to contribute to his amusement, without, however, any 
appearance of servility, or any sacrifice of self-respect. In fact, 
nothing of the kind was exacted by the demeanor of the Count ; 
for whatever may be said of Spanish pride, it rarely chills or 
constrains the intercourse of social or domestic life. Amoncj no 
people are the relations between kindred more unreserved and 
cordial, or between superior and dependant more free from 
liaughtiness on the one side, and obsequiousness on the other. 
In these respects there still remains in Spanish life, especially 
in the provinces, much of the vaunted simplicity of the olden 
time. 

The most interesting member of this family group, in my 
eyes, was the daughter of the count, the lovely little Carmen. 

She was but about sixteen years of age, and appeared to be con- 
sidered a mere child, though the idol of the family, going gener- 
ally by the childlike but endearing appellation of la Nina. Her 
form had not yet attained full maturity and development, but 
possessed already the exquisite symmetry and pliant grace so 
prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, and 
light hair, were unusual in Andalusia, and gave a mildness and 
gentleness to her demeanor in contrast to the usual fire of Span- 
ish beauty, but in unison with the guileless and confiding inno- 
cence of her manners. She had at the same time the innate 
aptness and versatility of her fascinating countrywomen. What- 
ever she undertook to do she did well and apparently without 
effort. She sang, played the guitar and other instruments, and 
(lanced the picturesque dances of her country to admiration, but 
never seemed to seek admiration. Everything was spontaneous, 
prompted by her own gay spirits and happy temper. 

The presence of this fascinating little being spread a new 
charm about the Alhambra, and seemed to be in unison with 
the place. While the count and countess, with the chaplain or 
secretary, were playing their game of tresillo under the vestibule 
of the court of Liens, she, attended by Dolores, who acted as 



156 THE ALHAMBRA 

her maid of honor, would sit by one of the fountains, and accom- 
panying herself on the guitar, would sing some of those popular 
romances which abound in Spain, or, what was still more to m}'' 
taste, some traditional ballad about the Moors. 

Never shall I think of the Alharabra without remembering 
this lovely little being, sporting in happy and innocent girlhood 
in its marble halls, dancing to the sound of the Moorish casta- 
nets, or mingling the silver warbling of her voice with the 
music of its fountains. 



RELICS AND GENEALOGIES 

If I had been pleased and interested by the count and his 
family, as furnishing a picture of Spanish domestic life, I was 
still more so when apprised of historical circumstances which 
linked them with the heroic times of Granada. In fact, in this 
worthy old cavalier, so totally unwarlike, or whose deeds in 
arms extended, at most, to a war on swallows and martlets, I 
discovered a lineal descendant and actual representative of Gon- 
salvo of Cordova, " The Grand Captain, " who won some of his 
brightest laurels before the walls of Granada, and was one of the 
cavaliers commissioned by Ferdinand and Isabella to negotiate 
the terms of surrender ; nay, more, the count was entitled, did 
he choose it, to claim remote affinity with some of the ancient 
Moorish princes, through a scion of his house, Don Pedro Vene- 
gas, surnamed the Tornadizo ; and by the same token his 
daughter, the fascinating little Carmen, might claim to be right- 
ful representative of the Princess Cetimerien or the beautiful 
Lindaraxa.^ 
"'"'Understanding from the count that he had some curious relics 
of the Conquest, preserved in his family archives, I accompanied 
him early one morning down to his palace in Granada to ex- 
amine them. The most important of these relics was the sword 



COSTUMES OF THE MOORS OF ANDALUS 157 

of the Grand Captain ; a weapon destitute of all ostentatious 
ornament, as the w apons of great generals are apt to be, with 
a plain hilt of ivory and a broad thin blade. It might furnish 
a comment on hereditary honors, to see the sword of the grand 
captain legitimately declined into such feeble hands. 

Tlie other relics of the Conquest were a number of espin- 
gardas or muskets of unwieldy size and ponderous weight, 
worthy to rank with those enormous two-edged swords pre- 
served in old armories, which look like relics from the days of 
the giants. 

Besides other hereditary honors, I found the old count was 
Alferez mayor, or grand standard-bearer, in Avhich capacity he 
was entitled to bear the ancient standard of Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella, on certain high and solemn occasions, and to wave it over 
their tombs. I was sliown also the caparisons of velvet, sumpt- 
uously embroidered with gold and silver, for six horses, with 
which he appeared in state when a new sovereign was to be 
proclaimed in Granada and Seville ; tlie count mounting one of 
the horses, and the other five being led by lackeys in rich liveries. 

I hud hoped to find among the relics and antiquities of the 
count's palace some specimens of the armor and weapons of 
the Moors of Granada, such as I had heard were preserved as 
trophies by the descendants of the Conquerors ; but in this I 
was disappointed. I was the more curious in this particular, 
because an erroneous idea has been entertained by many, as to 
the costumes of the Moors of Spain ; supposing them to be of 
the usual Oriental type. On the contrary, we have it on the 
authority of their own writers, that they adopted in many 
respects the fiishions of the Christians. The turban, especially, 
so identified in idea with the Moslem, was generally abandoned, 
except in the western provinces, where it continued in use 
among people of rank and wealth, and those holding places 
under government. A woollen cap, red or green, was commonly 
worn as a substitute ; probably the same kind originating in 



158 THE ALHAMBRA 

Barbary, and known by the name of Tunis or Fez, which at 
the present day is worn throughout the East, though generally 
under the turban. The Jews were obliged to wear them of a 
yellow color. 

In Murcia, Valencia, and other eastern provinces, men of 
the highest rank might be seen in public bareheaded. The 
warrior king, Aben Hud, never wore a turban, neither did his 
rival and competitor Al Hamar, the founder of the Alhambra. 
A short cloak called Taylasan, similar to that seen in Spain in 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was worn by all ranks. 
It had a hood or cape which people of conditions sometimes 
drew over the head ; but the lower class never. 

A Moslem cavalier in the thirteenth century, as described by 
Ibnu Said, was equipped for war very much in the Christian 
style. Over a complete suit of mail he wore a short scarlet 
tunic. His helmet was of polished steel ; a shield was slung 
at his back ; he wielded a huge spear with a broad point, 
sometimes a double point. His saddle was cumbrous, project- 
ing very much in front and in rear, and he rode with a banner 
fluttering behind him. 

In the time of Al Khattib of Granada, who wrote in the 
fourteenth century, the Moslems of Andalus had resumed the 
Oriental costumes, and were again clad and armed in Arabic 
fashion : with light helmet, thin but well-tempered cuirass, 
long slender lance, commonly of reed, Arabian saddle and 
leather buckler, made of double folds of the skin of the ante- 
lope. A wonderful luxury prevailed at that time in the arms 
and equipments of the Granadian cavaliers. Their armor was 
inlaid witli gold and silver. Their cimeters were of the keenest 
Damascus blades, with sheaths richly wrought and enamelled, 
and belts of golden filigree studded with gems. Their daggers 
of Fez had jewelled hilts, and their lances were set off with 
gay banderoles. Their horses were caparisoned in correspond- 
ent style, with velvet and embroidery. 



THE GENERALIFE 159 

All this minute description, given by a contemporary, and 
an author of distinction, verifies those gallant pictures in the 
old Morisco Spanish ballads which have sometimes been deemed 
apocryphal, and give a vivid idea of the brilliant appearance 
of the chivalry of Granada, when marshalled forth in warlike 
array, or when celebrating the chivalrous fetes of the Vivar- 
rambla. 

1 Lest this should be deemed a mere stretch of fancy, the 
reader is referred to the following genealogy, derived by the his- 
torian Alcantara, from an Arabian manuscript, on parchment in 
the archives of the Marquis of Corvera. It is a specimen of the 
curious affinities between Christians and Moslems, produced by 
capture and intermarriages, during the Moorish wars. From Aben 
Hud, the Moorish king, the conqueror of the Almohades, was 
descended in right line Cid Yahia Abraham Alnagar, prince of 
Almeria, who married a daughter of King Bermejo. They had 
three children, commonly called the Cetimerian Princes : 1st. Jusef 
ben Alhamai\ who for a time usurped the throne of Granada ; 
2d. the Prince Nasar^ who married the celebrated Lindaraxa ; 
8d. the Princess Getimerien, who married Don Pedro Venegas, 
captured by the Moors in his boyhood, a younger son of the 
House of Luque, of which house the old count was the present 
head. 

THE GENERALIFE 

High above the Alhambra, on the breast of the mountain, 
amidst embowered gardens and stately terraces, rise the lofty 
towers and white walls of the Generalife ; a fairy palace, full 
of storied recollections. Here are still to be seen the famous 
cypresses of enormous size which flourished in the time of the 
Moors, and which tradition has connected with the fabulous 
story of Boabdil and his sultana. 

Here are preserved the portraits of many who figured in 
the romantic drama of the Conquest. Ferdinand and Isabella, 
Ponce de Leon, the gallant Marquis of Cadiz, and Garcilaso da 



160 THE ALHAMBRA 

la Vega, who slew in desperate fight Tarfe the Moor, a cham 
pion of Herculean strength. Here too hangs a portrait which 
has long passed for that of the unfortunate Boabdil, but which 
is said to be that of Aben Hud, the Moorish king from whom 
descended the princes of Almeria. From one of these princes, 
who joined the standard of Ferdinand and Isabella toward the 
close of the Conquest, and was christianized by the name of 
Don Pedro de Granada Venegas, was descended the present 
proprietor of the palace, the Marquis of Campotejar. The 
proprietor, however, dwells in a foreign land, and the palace 
has no longer a princely inhabitant. 

Yet here is everything to delight a southern voluptuary : 
fruits, flowers, fragrance, green arbors and myrtle hedges, deli- 
cate air and gushing waters. Here I had an opportunity of wit- 
nessing those scenes which painters are fond of depicting about 
southern palaces and gardens. It was the saint's day of the 
count's daughter, and she had brought up several of her youth- 
ful companions from Granada, to sport away a long summer's 
day among the breezy halls and bowers of the Moorish palaces. 
A visit to the Generalife was the morning's entertainment. Here 
some of the gay company dispersed itself in groups about the 
green walks, the bright fountains, the flights of Italian steps, 
the noble terraces and marble balustrades. Others, among whom 
I was one, took their seats in an open gallery or colonnade com- 
manding a vast prospect ; with the Alhambra, the city, and the 
Vega, far below, and the distant horizon of mountains — a 
dreamy world, all glimmering to the eye in summer sunshine. 
While thus seated, the all-pervading tinkling of the guitar and 
click of the castanets came stealing up from the valley of the 
Darro, and half-way down the mountain we descried a festive 
party under the trees, enjoying themselves in true Andalusian 
style ; some lying on the grass, others dancing to the music. 

All these sights and sounds, together with the princely se- 
clusion of the place, the sweet quiet which prevailed around^ 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL 161 

and the delicious serenity of the weather, had a witching effect 
upon the mind, and drew from some of the company, versed in 
local story, several of the popular fancies . and traditions con- 
nected with this old Moorish palace ; they were " such stuff as 
dreams are made of," but out of them I have shaped the follow- 
ing legend, which I hope may have the good fortune to prove 
acceptable to the reader. 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL 

OR 

THE PILGRIM OF LOVE 

There was once a Moorish king of Granada, who had but 
one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his courtiers added 
the surname of al Kamel, or the Perfect, from the indubitable 
signs of superexcellence which they perceived in him in his very 
infancy. The astrologers countenanced them in their foresight, 
predicting everything in his favor that could make a perfect 
prince and a prosperous sovereign. One cloud only rested upon 
his destiny, and even that was of a roseate hue : he would be 
of an amorous temperament, and run great perils from the ten- 
der passion. If, however, he could be kept from the allure- 
ments of love until of mature age, these dangers would be 
averted, and his life thereafter be one uninterrupted course of 
felicity. 

To prevent all danger of the kind, the king wisely determined 
to rear the prince in a seclusion where he should never see a 
female face, nor hear even the name of love. For this purpose 
he built a beautiful palace on the brow of the hill above the 
Alhambra, in the midst of delightful gardens, but surrounded 
by lofty walls, being, in fact, the same palace known at the 
present day by the name of the Generalife. In this palace the 



162 THE ALHAMBRA 

youthful prince was shut up, aud intrusted to the guardianship 
and instruction of Eben Bonabben, one of the wisest and dryest 
of Arabian sages, who had passed the greatest part of his life 
in Egypt, studying hieroglyphics, and making researches among 
the tombs and pyramids, and who saw more charms in an Egyp- 
tian mummy than in the most tempting of living beauties. The 
sage was ordered to instruct the prince in all kinds of knowledge 
but one, — he was to be kept utterly ignorant of love. " Use 
every precaution for the purpose you may think proper," said 
the king, " but remember, Eben Bonabben, if my son learns 
aught of that forbidden knowledge while under your care, your 
head shall answer for it." A withered smile came over the dry 
visage of the wise Bonabben at the menace. "Let your maj- 
esty's heart be as easy about your son as mine is about my 
head : am I a man likely to give lessons in the idle passion ? " 

Under the vigilant care of the philosopher, the prince grew 
up in the seclusion of the palace and its gardens. He had black 
slaves to attend upon him — hideous mutes who knew nothing 
of love, or if they did, had not words to communicate it. His 
mental endowments were the peculiar care of Eben Bonabben, 
who sought to initiate him into the abstruse lore of Egypt; but 
in this the prince made little progress, and it was soon evident 
that he had no turn for philosophy. 

He was, however, amazingly ductile for a youthful prince, 
ready to follow any advice, and always guided by the last coun- 
sellor. He suppressed his yawns, and listened patiently to the 
long and learned discourses of Eben Bonabben, from which he 
imbibed a smattering of various kinds of knowletlge, and thus 
happily attained his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wisdom 
— but totally ignorant of love. 

About this time, however, a change came over the conduct of 
the prince. He completely abandoned his studies, and took to 
strolling about the gardens, and musing by the side of the foun- 
tains. He had been taught a little music among his various accom- 



THE DISCOVERY OF A HEART 163 

piisliments ; it now engrossed a great part of his time and a turn 
for poetry became apparent. The sage Eben Bonabben took the 
alarm, and endeavored to work these idle humors out of him by 
asevoi b course of algebra ; but the prince turned from it with dis- 
taste. '• 1 cannot endure algebra," said he ; " it is an abomina- 
tion to me. I want something that speaks more to the heart." 

The sage Eben Bonabben shook his dry head at the words. 
" Here is an end to philosophy," thought he. " The prince has 
discovered he has a heart ! " He now kept anxious watch upon 
his pupil, and saw that the latent tenderness of his nature was 
in activity, and only wanted an object. He wandered about the 
gardens of the Generalife in an intoxication of feelings of which 
he knew not the cause. Sometimes he would sit plunged in a 
delicious revery ; then he would seize his lute and draw from it 
the most touching notes, and then throw it aside, and break forth 
into sighs and ejaculations. 

By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to inani- 
mate objects; he had his favorite flowers, which he cherished 
with tender assiduity ; then he became attached to various trees, 
and tliere was one in particular, of a graceful form and drooping 
foliage, on which he lavished his amorous devotion, carving his 
name on its bark, hanging garlands on its branches, and singing 
couplets in its praise, to the accompaniment of his lute. 

Eben Bonabben was alarmed at this excited state of his pupil. 
■He saw him on the very brink of forbidden knowledge — the 
least hint might reveal to him the fatal secret. Trembling for 
the safety of the prince and the security of his own head, he 
hastened to draw him from the seductions of the garden, and shut 
him up in the highest tower of the Generalife. It contained 
beautiful apartments, and commanded an almost boundless pros- 
pect, but was elevated far above that atmosphere of sweets and 
those witching bowers so dangerous to the feelings of the too 
susceptible Alimed. 
"^ What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to this re 



164 THE ALHAMBRA 

stramt and to beguile the tedious liours 1 He had exhausted 
almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge ; and algebra was not 
to be mentioned. Fortunately Eben Bonabben had been in- 
structed, when in Egypt, in the language of birds by a Jewish 
Rabbin, who had received it in lineal transmission from Solomon 
the Wise, who had been taught it by the queen of Sheba. At 
the very mention of such a study, the eyes of the prince sparkkd 
with animation, and he applied himself to it with such avidity, 
that he soon became as great an adept as his master. 

The tower of the Generalife was no longer a solitude ; he had 
companions at hand with whom he could converse. The first 
acquaintance he formed was with a hawk, who built his nest 
in a crevice of the lofty battlements, whence he soared far and 
wide in quest of prey. The prince, however, found little to like 
or esteem in him. He was a mere pirate of the air, swaggering 
and boastful, whose talk w^as all about rapine and carnage, and 
desperate exploits. 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-looking 
bird, with a huge head and staring eyes, who sat blinking and 
goggling all day in a hole in the wall, but roamed forth at night. 
He had great pretensions to wisdom, talked something of astrol- 
ogy and the moon, and hinted at the dark sciences ; he was 
grievously given to metaphysics, and the prince found his pros- 
ings even more ponderous than those of the sage Eben Bonab- 
ben. 

Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in the 
dark corner of a vault, but sallied out in slipshod style at twi- 
light. He, however, had but twilight ideas on all subjects, de- 
rided things of which he had taken but an imperfect view, and 
seemed to take delight in nothing. 

Besides these there was a swallow, with whom the prince 
was at first much taken. He was a smart talker, but restless, 
bustling, and forever on the wing; seldom remaining long 
enough for any continued conversation. He turned out in the 



THE BIRDS OF THE TOWER 165 

end to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim over the surface 
of things, pretending to know everything, but knowing nothing 
thoroughly. 

These were the only feathered associates with whom the 
prince had any opportunity of exercising his newly acquired 
language ; the tower was too high for any other birds to fre- 
quent it. He soon grew weary of his new acquaintances, whose 
conversation spoke so little to the head and nothing to the heart, 
and gradually relapsed into his loneliness. A winter passed 
away, spring opened with all its bloom and verdure and breath- 
ing sweetness, and the hapjDy time arrived for birds to pair and 
build their nests. Suddenly, as it were, a universal burst of 
song and melody broke forth from the groves and gardens of the 
Generalife, and reached the prince in the solitude of his tower. 
From every side he heard the same universal theme — love — 
love — love — chanted forth, and responded to in every variety 
of note and tone. The prince listened in silence and perj^lexity. 
" What can be this love," thought he, " of which the world 
seems so full, and of which I know nothing ? " He applied for 
information to his friend the hawk. The ruffian bird answered 
in a tone of scorn : "You must apply," said he, "to the vulgar 
peaceable birds of earth, who are made for the prey of us princes 
of the air. My trade is war, and fighting my delight. I am a 
warrior, and know nothing of this thing called love." 

The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought the owl 
in his retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of peaceful habits, 
and may be able to solve my question." So he asked the owl 
to tell him what was this love about which all the birds in 
the groves below were singing. 

Upon this the owl put on a look of offended dignity. " My 
nights," said he, "are taken up in study and research, and my 
days in ruminating in my cell upon all that I have learnt. As 
to these singing birds of whom you talk, I never listen to them 
— I despise them and their themes. Allah be praised, I can 



166 THE ALHAMBRA 

not sing ; I am a philosopher, and know nothing of this thing 
called love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault, where^ his friend the 
bat was hanging by the heels, and propounded the same ques- 
tion. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a most snappish 
expression. *' Why do you disturb me in \x\j morning's nap 
with such an idle question ? " said he, peevishly. " I only fly 
by twilight when all birds are asleep, and never trouble myself 
with their concerns. I am neither bird nor beast, and I thank 
heaven for it. I have found out the villany of the whole of 
them, and hate them one and all. In a word, I am a misan- 
thrope — and know nothing of this thing called love." 

As a last resort, the prince now sought the swallow, and 
stopped him just as he was circling about the summit of the 
tower. The swallow, as usual, was in a prodigious hurry, and 
had scarce time to make a reply. "Upon my word," said he, 
" I have so much public business to attend to, and so many 
pursuits to follow, that I have had no time to think on the sub- 
ject. I have every day a thousand visits to pay; a thousand 
affiiirs of importance to examine into, that leave me not a 
moment of leisure for these little sing-song matters. In a 
word, I am a citizen of the world — I know nothing of this 
thing called love." So saying, the swallow dived into the 
valley, and was out of sight in a moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but with 
his curiosity still more piqued by the ditticulty of gratifying it. 
While in this mood, his ancient guardian entered the tower. 
The prince advanced eagerly to meet him. " Eben Bonab- 
ben," cried he, "thou hast revealed to nie much of the wisdom 
of the earth ; but there is one thing of which I remain in utter 
ignorance, and would fain be informed." 

" My prince has but to make the inquiry, and everythins: 
within the limited range of his servaijt's intellect is at his com- 
mand." 



LOFU DEFINED 167 

" Tell me then, most profound of sages, what is the nature 
of this thing called love ? " 

Eben Bonabben was struck as v/ith a thunderbolt. He 
trembled and turned pale, and felt as if his head sat but loosely 
on his shoulders. 

" What could suggest such a question to my prince, — where 
could he have learnt so idle a word ? " 

The prince led him to the window of the tower. " Listen, 
Eben Bonabben," said he. The sage listened. The nightingale 
sat in a thicket below the tower, singing to his paramour the 
rose ; from every blossomed spray and tufted grove rose a strain 
of melody ; and love — love — love — was still the unvarying 
strain. 

" Allah Akbar ! God is great ! " exclaimed the wise Bonabben. 
"Who shall pretend to keep this secret from the heart of man, 
when even the birds of the air conspire to betray it?" 

Then turning to Ahmed — "0 my prince," cried he, "shut 
thine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy mind against 
this dangerous knowledge. Know that this love is the cause of 
half the ills of wretched mortality. It is this Avhich produces 
bitterness and strife between brethren and friends; which causes 
treacherous murder and desolating war. Care and sorrow, 
weary days and sleepless nights, are its attendants. It withers 
the bloom and blights the joy of youth, and brings on the ills 
and grief of premature old age. Allah preserve thee, my prince, 
in total ignorance of this thing called love ! " 

The sage Eben Bonabben hastily retired, leaving the prince 
plunged in still deeper perplexity. It was in vain he attempted 
to dismiss the subject from his mind ; it still continued upper- 
most in his thoughts, and teased and exhausted him with vain 
conjectures. Surely, said he to himself, as he listened to the 
tuneful strains of the birds, there is no sorrow in those notes ; 
everything seems tenderness and joy. If love be a cause 
of such wretchedness and strife, why are not these birds droop* 



168 THE ALHAMBRA 

ing in solitude, or tearing each other in pieces, instead of flut 
tering cheerfully about the groves, or sporting with each other 
among the flowers ? " 

He lay one morning on his couch, meditating on this inexpli- 
cable matter. The window of his chamber was open to admit 
the soft morning breeze, which came laden with the perfume of 
orange-blossoms from the valley of the Darro. The voice of the 
nightingale was faintly heard, still chanting the wonted theme. 
As the prince was listening and sighing, there was a sudden 
rushing noise in the air ; a beautiful dove, pursued by a hawk, 
darted in at the windovr, and fell panting on the floor, while 
the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared off to the mountains. 

The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed its feathers, 
and nestled it in his bosom. When he had soothed it by his 
caresses, he put it in a golden cage, and offered it, with his own 
hands, the whitest and finest of wheat and the purest of water. 
The bird, however, refused food, and sat drooping and pining, 
and uttering piteous moans. 

" What aileth thee 1 " said Ahmed. " Hast thou not every- 
thing thy heart can wish ? " 

" Alas, no ! " replied the dove ; " am I not separated from 
the partner of my heart, and that too in the happy spring-time, 
the very season of love 1 " 

" Of love ! " echoed Ahmed. " I pray thee, my pretty bird, 
canst thou then tell me what is love ? " 

" Too well can I. my prince. It is the torment of one, the 
felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is a charm 
whicli draws two beings together, and unites them by delicious 
sympathies, making it happiness to be with each other, but 
misery to be apart. Is there no being to whom you are drawn 
by these ties of tender aff'ection 1 " 

" I like my old teacher Eben Bonabben better than any other 
being ; but he is often tedious, and I occasionally feel myself 
liappier without his society." 



FIRST LESSONS OF LOVE 169 

"That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak of love, the 
great mystery and prhiciple of life ; the intoxicating revel of 
youth; the sober delight of age. Look forth, my prince, and be- 
hold how at this blest season all nature is full of love. Every 
created being has its mate : the most insignificant bird sings to 
its paramour; the very beetle wooes its lady-beetle in the dust, 
and yon butterflies, which you see fluttering high above the 
tower and toying in the air, are happy in each other's loves. 
Alas, my prince ! hast thou spent so many of the precious days 
of youth without knowing anything of love 1 Is there no gen- 
tle being of another sex — no beautiful princess nor lovely dam- 
sel who has ensnared your heart, and filled your bosom with a 
soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender wishes ?" 

" I begin to understand," said the prince, sighing ; " such a 
tumult I have more than once experienced, without knowing 
the cause ; and where shouhl I seek for an object such as you 
describe in this dismal solitude ? " 

k little further conversation ensued, and the first amatory 
lesson of the prince was complete. 

" Alas ! " said he, " if love be indeed such a delight, and its 
interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I should mar the 
joy of any of its votaries." He opened the cage, took out the 
dove, and having fondly kissed it, carried it to the window. 
" Go, happy bird," said he, " rejoice with the partner of thy 
heart in the days of youth and spring-time. Why should I 
make thee a fellow-prisoner in this dreary tower, where love can 

never enter?" 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault into 
the air, and then swooped downward on whistling wings to the 
blooming bowers of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave way to 
bitter repining. The singing of the birds, which once delighted 
him, now added to his bitterness. Love ! love ! love ! Alas, 
poor youth ! he now understood the strain. 



170 THE ALHAMBRA 

Hi's eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage Bonabben 
" Why hast thou kept me in this abject ignorance ? " cried ha 
" Wliy has the great mystery and principle of life been withheld 
from me, in which I fin'd the meanest insect is so learned 1 
Behold all nature is in a revel of delight. Every created being 
rejoices with its mate. This — this is the love about which I 
have sought instruction. Why am I alone debarred its enjoy- 
ment ? Why has so much of my youth been wasted without a 
knowledge of its raptures ? " 

Tlie sage Bonabben saw that all further reserve was useless ; 
for the prince had acquired the dangerous and forbidden knowl- 
edge. He revealed to him, therefore, the predictions of the 
astrologers and the precautions that had been taken in his 
education to avert the threatened evils. "And now, ray 
prince," added he, " my life is in your hands. Let the king 
your father discover that you have learned the passion of love 
while under my guardianship, and my head must answer for it." 

The prince was as reasonable as most young men of his age, 
and easily listened to the remonstrances of his tutor, since noth- 
ing pleaded against them. Besides, he really was attached to 
Eben Bonabben, and being as yet but theoretically acquainted 
with the passion of love, he consented to confine the knowledge 
of it to his own bosom, rather than endanger the head of the 
philosopher. 

His discretion was doomed, however, to be put to still further 
proofs. A few mornings afterwards, as he was ruminating on 
the battlements of the tower, the dove which had been released 
by him came hovering in the air, and alighted fearlessly upon 
his shoulder. 

The prince fondled it to his heart. " Happy bird," said he, 
" who can fly, as it were, with the wings of the morning to the 
uttermost parts of the earth. Where hast thou been since we 
parted ? " 

"In a far country, my prince, whence I bring you tidings in 



A LOVE-MISSIVE l71 

reward for my liberty. In the wild compass of my flight, 
which extends over plain and mountain, as I was soaring in 
the air, I beheld below me a delightful garden with all kinds of 
fruits and flowers. It was in a green meadow, on the banks of 
a wandering stream ; and in the centre of the garden was a 
stately palace. I alighted in one of the bowers to repose after 
my weary flight. On the green bank below me was a youtliful 
princess, in the very sweetness and bloom of her years. She 
was surrounded by female attendants, young like herself, who 
decked her with garlands and coronets of flowers ; but no flower 
of field or garden could compare with her for loveliness. Here, 
however, she bloomed in secret, for the garden was surrounded 
by high walls, and no mortal man was permitted to enter. 
When I beheld this beauteous maid, thus young and innocent 
and unspotted by tlie world, I thought, here is the being formed 
by heaven to inspire my prince with love." 

The description was a spark of fire to the combustible heart 
of Ahmed ; all the latent amorousness of his temperament had 
at once found an object, and he conceived an immeasurable pas- 
sion for the princess. He wrote a letter, couched in the most 
impassioned language, breathing his fervent devotion, but be- 
wailing the unhappy thraldom of his person, which prevented 
him from seeking her out and throwing himself at her feet. 
He added couplets of the most tender and moving eloquence, 
for he was a poet by nature, and inspired by love. He addressed 
his letter — *' To the Unknown Beauty, from the captive Prince 
Ahmed ; " then perfuming it with musk and roses, he gave it 
to the dove. 

" Awav, trustiest of messengers ! " said he. " Flv over moun- 
tain, and valley, and river, and plain ; rest not in bower, nor 
set foot on earth, until thou hast given this letter to the mis- 
tress of my heart." 

The dove soared high in the air, and taking his course darted 
away in one undeviating direction. The prince followed him 



172 THE ALHAMBRA 

with his eye until he was a mere speck on a cloud, and gradually 
disappeai'ed behind a mountain. 

Day after day he watched for the return of the messenger of 
love, but he watched in vain. He began to accuse him of for- 
getfulness, when towards sunset one evening the faithful bird 
fluttered into his apartment, and falling at his feet expired. 
The arrow of some wanton archer had pierced his breast, yet he 
had struggled with the lingerings of life to execute his mission. 
As the prince bent with grief over this gentle martyr to fidelity, 
he beheld a chain of pearls round his neck, attached to which, 
beneath his wing, was a small enamelled picture. It repre- 
sented a lovely princess in the very flower of her years. It was 
doubtless the unknown beauty of the garden ; but who and 
where was she? — how had she received his letter? and Avas 
this picture sent as a token of her approval of his passion 1 
Unfortunately the death of the faithful dove left everything in 
mystery and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes swam with tears. 
He pressed it to his lips and to his heart ; he sat for hours con- 
templating it almost in an agony of tenderness. "Beautiful 
image ! " said he, " alas, thou art but an image ! Yet thy dewy 
eyes beam tenderly upon me ; those rosy lips look as though 
they would speak encouragement : vain fancies ! Have' they 
not looked the same on some more happy rival ? But where 
in this wide world shall I hope to find the original? Who 
knows what mountains, what realms may separate us ; what 
adverse chances may intervene ? Perhaps now, even now, 
lovers may be crowding around her, while I sit here a prisoner 
in a tower, wasting my time in adoration of a painted shadow." 

The resolution of Prince Ahmed was taken. "I will fly 
from this palace," said he, "which has become an odious prison ; 
and, a pilgrim of love, will seek this unknown princess through- 
out the world." To escape from the tower in the day, when 
every one was awake, might be a diflBcult matter ; but at nigb^ 



THE OWL A PHILOSOPHER 173 

the palace was slightly guarded ; for no one apprehended any 
attempt of the kind from the prince, who had always been so 
passive in his captivity. How was he to guide himself, how- 
ever, in his darkling flight, being ignorant of the country ? He 
bethought him of the owl, who was accustomed to roam at 
night, and must know every by -lane and secret pass. Seeking 
him in his hermitage, he questioned him touching his knowledge 
of the land. Upon this the owl put on a mighty self important 
look. "You must know, prince," said he, "that we owls 
are of a very ancient and extensive family, though rather fallen 
to decay, and possess ruinous castles and palaces in all parts of 
Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the mountains, or a fortress 
of the plains, or an old citadel of a city, but has some brother, 
or uncle, or cousin, quartered in it ; and in going the rounds to 
visit this my numerous kindred, I have pried into every nook 
and corner, and made myself acquainted with every secret of 
the land." 

The prince was overjoyed to find the owl so deeply versed in 
topography, and now informed him, in confidence, of his tender 
passion and his intended elopement, urging him to be his com- 
panion and counsellor. 

"Go to ! " said the owl, with a look of displeasure; "am I 
a bird to engage in a love-affair? — I, whose whole time is 
devoted to meditation and the moon ? " 

"Be not offended, most solemn owl," replied the prince; 
" abstract thyself for a time from meditation and the moon, and 
aid me in my flight, and thou shalt have whatever heart can 
wish." 

"I have that already," said the owl: "a few mice are suflS- 
cient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is spacious 
enough for my studies; and what more does a philosopher like 
myself desire 1 " 

" Bethink thee, most wise owl, that while moping in thy cell 
and gazing at the moon, all thy talents are lost to the world 



174 THE ALHAMBRA 

I shall one day be a sovereign prince, and may advance thee to 
some post of honor and dignity." 

The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary wants 
of life, w^as not above ambition, so he was finally prevailed on 
to elope with the prince, and be his guide and mentor in his 
pilgrimage. 

The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince 
collected all his jewels, and concealed them about his person 
as travelling funds. That very night he lowered himself by 
his scarf from a balcony of the tower, clambered over the outer 
walls of the Generalife, and, guided by the owd, made good his 
escape before morning to the mountains. 

He now held a council with his mentor as to his future 
course. 

"Might I advise," said the owl, "I would recommend you 
to repair to Seville. You must know that many years since I 
was on a visit to an uncle, an owl of great dignity and power, 
who lived in a ruined wing of the Alcazar of that place. In 
my hoverings at night over the city I frequently remarked a 
light burning in a lonely tower. At length I alighted on the 
battlements, and found it to proceed from the lamp of an 
Arabian magician : he was surrounded by his magic books, and 
on his shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient raven who 
had come with him from Egypt. I am acquainted with that 
raven, and owe to him a great part of the knowledge I possess. 
The magician is since dead, but the raven still inhabits the 
tower, for these birds are of wonderful long life. I would 
advise you, prince, to seek that raven, for he is a soothsayer 
and a conjurer, and deals in the black art, for which all ravens, 
and especially those of Egypt, are renowned." 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, and 
accordingly bent his course towards Seville. He travelled only 
in the night to accommodate his companion, and lay by during 
the day in some dark cavern or mouldering watch-tower, for 



THE CABALISTIC RAVEN 176 

the owl knew every hiding-hole of the kind, and had a most 
anti(iuarian taste for ruins. 

At length one morning at daybreak they reached the city of 
Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and bustle of 
crowded streets, halted without the gate, and took up his 
quarters in a hollow tree. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic 
tower, which rose above the houses of tlie city, as a palm-tree 
rises above the shrubs of the desert ; it was in fact the same 
tower standing at the present day, and known as the Giraida, 
the famous Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the 
summit of the tower, where he found the cabalistic raven, — 
an old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, with a 
film over one eye tliat gave him the glare of a spectre. He 
was perched on one leg, with his head turned on one side, poriitg 
with his remaining eye on a diagram described on the pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and reverence natu- 
rally inspired by his venerable appearance and supernatural wis- 
dom. "Pardon me, most ancient and darkly wise raven," 
exclaimed he, "if for a moment I interrupt those studies which 
are the wonder of the world. You behold before you a votary 
of love, who would fain seek your counsel how to obtain the 
object of his passion." 

" In other words," said the raven, with a significant look, 
"you seek to try my skill in palmistry. Come, show me your 
hand, and let me decipher the mysterious lines of fortune." 

"Excuse me," said the prince, "I come not to pry into the 
decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah froih the eyes of 
mortals; I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to find a clue to 
the object of my pilgrimage." 

"And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous Anda- 
lusia?" said the old raven, leering upon him with his single 
eye; "above all, can you be at a loss in wanton Seville, 



176 TEE ALHAMBRJ. 

where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra under every orange 
grovel" 

The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at hearing 
an old bird with one foot in the grave talk thus loosely. "Be- 
lieve me," said he, gravely, " I am on none such light and vagrant 
errand as thou dost insinuate. The black-eyed damsels of An- 
dalusia who dance among the orange groves of the Guadalquivir 
are as naught to me. I seek one unknown but immaculate 
beauty, the original of this picture ; and I beseech thee, most 
potent raven, if it be within the scope of thy knowledge or the 
reach of thy art, inform me where she may be found ? " 

The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of the 
prince. 

"What know I," replied he, dryly, "of youth and beauty? 
My visits are to the old and withered, 'not the fresh and fair; 
the harbinger of fate am I ; who croak bodings of death from 
the chimney-top, and flap my wings at the sick man's win- 
dow. You must seek elsewhere for tidings of your unknown 
beauty." 

"And where can I seek if not among the sous of wisdom, 
versed in the book of destiny? Know that I am a royal prince, 
fated by the stars, and sent on a mysterious enterprise on which 
may hang the destiny of empires." 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment, 
in which the stars took interest, he changed his tone and man- 
ner, and listened with profound attention to the story of the 
prince. When it was concluded, he replied, "Touching this 
princess, I can give thee no information of myself, for my flight 
is not among gardens, or around ladies' bowers ; but hie thee to 
Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, which 
stands in the court of the principal mosque : at the foot of it 
thou wilt find a great traveller who has visited all countries 
and courts, and been a favorite with queens and princesses. 
He will give thee tidings of the object of thy search." 



THE TRAVELLED PARROT 111 

" Many thanks for this precious information," said the prince. 
' Farewell, most venerable conjurer." 

" Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven, dryly, and again 
fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought h5s fellow-trav- 
eller the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and set 
off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and 
citron groves, overlooking the fair valley of the Guadalquivir. 
When arrived at its gates the owl flew up to a dark hole in the 
wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the palm-tree planted 
in days of yore by the great Abderahman. It stood in the 
midst of the great court of the mosque, towering from amidst 
orange and cypress trees. Dervises and faquirs were seated in 
groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of the faithful 
were performing their ablutions at the fountains before entering 
the mosque. 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the 
words of one who appeared to be talking with great volubility. 
" This," said the prince to himself, " must be the great traveller 
who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess." He min- 
gled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive that they 
were all listening to a parrot, who with his bright-green coat, 
pragmatical eye, and consequential top-knot had the air of a 
bird on excellent terms with himself. 

"How is this," said the prince to one of the by-standers, 
" that so many grave persons can be delighted with the garrulity 
of a chattering bird 1 " 

" You know not whom you speak of," said the other ; " this 
parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned 
for his story-telling talent. He has all the learning of the East 
at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can 
talk. He has visited various foreign courts, where he has been 
considered an oracle of erudition. He has been a universal 



1 78 THE ALHAMBRA 

favorite also with the fair sex, who have a vast admiration foi 
erudite parrots that can quote poetry." 

" Enough, " said the prince, "I will have some private talk 
with this distinguished traveller." 

He sought a jDrivate interview, and expounded the nature of 
his errand. He had scarcely mentioned it when the parrot 
burst into a fit of dry rickety laughter, that absolutely brought 
tears into his eyes. "Excuse my merriment," said he, " but the 
mere mention of love always sets me laughing." 

The prince was shocked at this ill-timed mirth. "Is not 
love," said he, " the great mystery of nature, the secret princi- 
ple of life, the universal bond of sympathy 1 " 

"A fig's end ! " cried the parrot, interrupting him ; "prithee 
where hast thou learned this sentimental jargon 1 Trust me, love 
is quite out of vogue ; one never hears of it in the company of 
wits and people of refinement." 

The prince sighed as he recalled tlie difi'erent language of his 
friend the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has lived about 
the court, he aff'ects the wit and the fine gentleman, he knows 
nothing of the thing called love. Unwilling to provoke any 
more ridicule of the sentiment which filled his heart, he 
now directed his inquiries to the immediate purport of his 
visit. 

"Tell me," said he, "most accomplished parrot, thou who 
hast everywhere been admitted to the most secret bowers of 
beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels met with the 
original of this portrait?" 

The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head from 
side to side, and examined it curiously with either eye. " Upon 
my honor," said he, " a very pretty face, very pretty ; but then 
one sees so many pretty women in one's travels that one can 
hardly — but hold — bless me ! now I look at it again — sure 
enough, this is the Princess Aldegonda : how could I forget one 
'tliat is so prodigious a favorite with me ! " 



THE TRAVELLED PARROT 179 

"The Princess Aldegonda!" echoed the prince; "and where 
is she to be found'?" 

" Softly, softly," said the parrot, " easier to be found than 
gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian king who 
reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the world until her seven- 
teenth birthday, on account of some prediction of those meddle- 
some fellows the astrologers. You'll not get a sight of her; no 
mortal man can see her. I was admitted to her presence to 
entertain her, and I assure you, on the word of a parrot who 
has seen the world, I have conversed with much sillier princesses 
in m}^ time." 

" A word in confidence, my dear parrot," said the prince. "I 
am heir to a kingdom, and shall one day sit upon a throne. I 
see that you are a bird of parts, and understand the world. 
Help me to gain possession of this princess, and I will advance 
you to some distinguished place about court." 

" With all my heart," said the parrot ; " but let it be a sine- 
cure if possible, for we wits have a great dislike to labor." 

Arrangements were promptly made : the prince sallied forth 
from Cordova through the same gate by which he had entered ; 
called the owl down from the hole in the wall, introduced him 
to liis new travelling companion as a brother savant, and away 
they set off on their jivaniey. 

They travelled much more slowly than accorded with the im- 
patience of the prince ; but the parrot was accustomed to high 
life, and did not like to be disturbed early in the morning. The 
owl, on the other hand, was for sleeping at mid-day, and lost a 
great deal of time by his long siestas. His antiquarian taste 
also was in the way ; for he insisted on pausing and inspecting 
every ruin, and had long legendary tales to tell about every old 
tower and castle in the country. The prince had supposed that 
he and the parrot being both birds of learning, would delight 
in each other's society, but never had he been more mistaken. 
They were eternally bickering. The one was a wit, the othei 



180 THE ALHAMBRA 

a philosopher. The parrot quoted poetry, was critical on new 
readings and eloquent on small points of erudition ; the owl 
treated all such knowledge as trifling, and relished nothing but 
metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing songs and repeat hon 
7nots and crack jokes upon his solemn neighbor, and laugh out- 
rageously at his own wit ; all which proceedings the owl con- 
sidered as a grievous invasion of his dignity, and would scowl 
and sulk and swell, and be silent for a whole day together. 

The prince heeded not the wranglings of his companions, 
being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy and the con- 
templation of the portrait of the beautiful princess. In this 
way they journeyed through the stern passes of the Sierra Mo- 
rena, across the sunburnt plains of La Mancha and Castile, and 
along the banks of the " Golden Tagus," which winds its wizard 
mazes over one-half of Spain and Portugal. At length they 
came in sight of a strong city with walls and towers built on 
a rocky promontory, round the foot of which the Tagus circled 
with brawling violence. 

"Behold," exclaimed the owl, "the ancient and renowned 
city of Toledo; a city famous for its antiquities. Behold those 
venerable domes and towers, hoary with time and clothed with 
legendary grandeur, in which so many of my ancestors have 
meditated." 

" Pish ! " cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn antiqua- 
rian rapture, " what have we to do with antiquities, and legends, 
and your ancestry ? Behold what is more to the purpose — 
behold the abode of youth and beauty — behold at length, 
prince, the abode of your long-sought princess." 

The prince looked in the direction indicated by the parrot, 
and beheld, in a delightful green meadow on the banks of the 
Tagus, a stately palace rising from amidst the bowers of a deli- 
cious garden. It was just such a place as had been described 
by the dove as the residence of the original of the picture. 
He gazed at it with a throbbing heart ; " perhaps at this mo- 



TOLEDO 181 

ment," thought he, " the beautiful princess is sporting beneath 
those shady bowers, or pacing with delicate step those stately 
terraces, or reposing beneath those lofty roofs ! " As he looked 
more narrowly, he perceived that the walls of the garden were 
of great height, so as to defy access, while numbers of armed 
guards patrolled around them. 

The prince turned to the parrot. " most accomplished of 
birds," said he, "thou hast the gift of human speech. Hie 
thee to yon garden ; seek the idol of my soul, and tell her that 
Prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, and guided by the stars, has 
arrived in quest of her on the flowery banks of the Tagus." 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the garden, 
mounted above its lofty walls, and after soaring for a time over 
the lawns and groves, alighted on the balcony of a pavilion that 
overhung the river. Here, looking in at the casement, he be- 
held the princess reclining on a couch, with her eyes fixed on a 
paper, while tears gently stole after each other down her pallid 
cheek. 

Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his %-ight-green 
coat, and elevating his top-knot, the parrot perched himself be- 
side her with a gallant air ; then assuming a tenderness of tone, 
"Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses," said he; "I come 
to bring solace to thy heart." 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning and 
seeing nothing but a little green-coated bird bobbing and bow- 
ing before her. "Alas! what solace canst thou yield," said she, 
" seeing thou art but a parrot ? " 

The parrot was nettled at the question. " I have consoled 
many beautiful ladies in my time," said he ; " but let that pass. 
At present I come ambassador from a royal prince. Know that 
Ahmed, the prince of Granada, has arrived in quest of thee, and 
is encamped even now on the flowery banks of the Tagus." 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these words 
even brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. " sweetest 



182 THE ALHAMBRa 

of parrots," cried she, "joyful indeed are thy tidings, for I was 
faint and weary, and sick almost unto death with doubt of the 
constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back, and tell him that the 
words of his letter are engraven in my heart, and his poetry 
has been the food of my soul. Tell him, however, that he must 
prepare to prove his love by force of arms ; to-morrow is my 
seventeenth birthday, when the king my father holds a great 
tournament ; several princes are to enter the lists, and my hand 
is to be the prize of the victor." 

The parrot again took wing, and, rustling through the groves, 
flew back to where the prince awaited his return. The rapture 
of Ahmed on finding the original of his adored portrait, and 
finding her kind and true, can only be conceived by those 
favored mortals who have had the good fortune to reaiize day- 
dreams and turn a shadow into substance : still there was one 
thing that alloyed his transport — this impending tournament. 
In fact, the banks of the Tagus w^re already glittering with 
arms, and resounding with trumpets of the various knights, 
who, with *{)roLid retinues, were prancing on tow^ards Toledo 
to attend the ceremonial. The same star that had controlled 
the destiny of the prince had governed that of the princess, 
and until her seventeenth birthday she had been shut up from 
the world, to guard her from the tender passion. The fame of 
her charms, however, had been enhanced rather than obscured 
by this seclusion. Several powerful princes had contended 
for her hand; and her father, who was a king of wondrous 
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing partiality, had 
referred them to the arbitrament of arms. Among the rival can- 
didates were several renowned for strength and prowess. What 
a predicament for the unfortunate Ahmed, unprovided as he 
was with weapons, and unskilled in the exercise of chivalry! 
" Luckless prince that I am ! " said he, " to have been brought 
up in seclusion under the eye of a philosopher ! Of what avail 
are algebra and philosophy in affairs of love 1 Alas, Eben Bon 



ENCHANTED ARMOR 183 

abben ! why hast thou neglected to instruct me in the manage- 
ment of arms?"- Upon this the owl broke silence, preluding 
his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he was a devout 
Mussulman. 

" Allah Akbar ! God is great ! " exclaimed he ; " in his hands 
are all secret things — he alone governs the destiny of princes ! 
Know, prince, that this land is full of mysteries, hidden from 
all but those who, like myself, can grope after knowledge in 
the dark. Know that in the neighboring mountains there is 
a cave, and in that cave there is an iron table, and on that 
table there lies a suit of magic armor, and beside that table 
there stands a spell-bound steed, which have been shut up there 
for many generations." 

The prince stared with wonder, while the owl, blinking his 
huge round eyes and erecting his horns, proceeded. 

" Many years since I accompanied my father to these parts 
on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that cave; and 
thus became I acquainted with the mystery. It is a tradition 
in our family which I have heard from my grandfather, when I 
was yet but a very little owlet, that this armor belonged to a 
Moorish magician, who took refuge in this cavern when Toledo 
was captured by the Christians, and died there, leaving his 
steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never to be used but 
by a Moslem, and by him only from sunrise to mid-day. In 
that interval, whoever uses them will overthrow every opponent." 

" Enough : let us seek this cave ! " exclaimed Ahmed. 

Guided by his legendary mentor, the prince found the cavern, 
which was in one of the wildest recesses of those rocky cliffs 
which rise around Toledo ; none but tlie mousing eye of an owl 
^r an antiquary could have discovered the entrance to it. A 
sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed a solemn light through 
the place. On an iron table in the centre of the cavern lay the 
magic armor, against it leaned the lance, and beside it stood an 
Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but motionless as a 



184 THE ALHAMBRA 

statue. The armor was bright and unsullied as it had gleamed 
in days of old; the steed in as good condition as if just from 
the pasture; and when Ahmed laid his hand upon his neck, he 
pawed the ground and gave a loud neigh of joy that shook the 
walls of the cavern. Thus amply provided with " horse and 
rider and weapon to wear," the prince determined to defy the 
field in the impending tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The lists for the combat 
were prepared in the Vega, or plain, just below the clifif- built 
walls of Toledo, where stages and galleries were erected for 
the spectators, covered with rich tapestry, and sheltered from 
the sun by silken awnings. All the beauties of the land were 
assembled in those galleries, while below pranced plumed knights 
with their pages and esquires, among whom figured conspicuously 
the princes who were to contend in the tourney. All the beauties 
of the land, however, were eclipsed when the Princess Aldegonda 
appeared in the royal pavilion, and for the first time broke 
forth upon the gaze of an admiring world. A murmur of 
wonder ran through the crowd at her transcendent loveliness ; 
and the princes who were candidates for her hand, merely on 
the faith of her reported charms, now felt tenfold ardor for the 
conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. The color came 
and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered with a restless 
and unsatisfied expression over the plumed throng of knights. 
The trumpets were about sounding for the encounter, when the 
herald announced the arrival of a strange knight; and Ahmed 
rode into the field. A steel helmet studded with gems rose 
above his turban; his cuirass was embossed with gold; his 
cimeter and dagger were of the workmanship of Fez, and flamed 
with precious stones. A round shield was at his shoulder, and 
in his hand he bore the lance of charmed virtue. The capari- 
son of his Arabian steed was richly embroidered and swept the 
ground, and the proud animal pranced and snufted the air, and 



ENCHANTED ARMOR 185 

weighed with joy at once more beholding the array of arms. 
The lofty and graceful demeanor of the prince struck every eye 
and when his appellation was announced, " The Pilgrim of Love,'' 
a universal flutter and agitation prevailed among the fair dames 
in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, they 
were closed against him : none but princes, he was told, were 
admitted to the contest. He declared his name and rank. Still 
worse ! — he was a Moslem, and could not engage in a tourney 
where the hand of a Christian princess was the prize. 

The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and menacing 
aspects ; and one of insolent demeanor and herculean frame 
sneered at his light and youthful form, and scoffed at his amor- 
ous appellation. The ire of the prince was roused. He defied 
his rival to the encounter. They took distance, wheeled, and 
charged ; and at the first touch of the magic lance, the brawny 
scoffer was tilted from his saddle. Here the prince would have 
paused, but, alas ! he had to deal with a demoniac horse and 
armor ; once in action, nothing could control them. The Ara- 
bian steed charged into the thickest of the throng ; the lance 
overturned everything that presented; the gentle prince was 
carried pell-mell about the field, strewing it with high and low, 
gentle and simple, and grieving at his own involuntary exploits. 
The king stormed and raged at this outrage on his subjects and 
his guests. He ordered out all his guards - — they were un- 
horsed as fast as they came up. The king threw off his robes, 
grasped buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the stranger 
with the presence of majesty itself. Alas ! majesty fared no 
better than the vulgar ; the steel and lance were no respecters 
of persons ; to the dismay of Ahmed, he was borne full tilt 
against the king, and in a moment the royal heels were in the 
air, and the crown was rolling in the dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian ; the magic 
spell resumed its power ; the Arabian steed scoured across the 



180 THE ALHAMBRA 

plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into the Tagus, swam its raging 
current, bore the prince breathless and amazed to the cavern, 
and resumed his station, like a statue, beside the iron table. 
The prince dismounted right gladly, and replaced the armor, to 
abide the further decrees of fate. Then seating himself in the 
cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state to which this de- 
moniac steed and armor had reduced him. Never should he 
dare to show his face at Toledo after inflicting such disgrace 
upon its chivalry, and such an outrage on its king. What too 
would the princess think of so rude and riotous an achievement ? 
Full of anxiety, he sent forth his winged messengers to gather 
tidings. The parrot resorted to all the public places and crowded 
resorts of the city, and soon returned with a world of gossip. 
All Toledo was in consternation. The princess had been borne 
off senseless to the palace ; the tournament had ended in con- 
fusion ; every one was talking of the sudden apparition, prodig- 
ious exploits, and strange disappearance of the Moslem knight. 
Some pronounced him a Moorish magician ; others thought him 
a demon who had assumed a human shape, while others related 
traditions of enchanted warriors hidden in the caves of the moun- 
tains, and thought it might be one of these, who had made a 
sudden irruption from his den. All agreed that no mere ordi- 
nary mortal could have wrought such wonders, or unhorsed such 
accomplished and stalwart Christian warriors. 

The owl flew forth at night and hovered about the dusky 
city, perching on the roofs and chimneys. He then wheeled his 
flight up to the royal palace, which stood on a rocky summit of 
Toledo, and went prowling about its terraces and battlements, 
eavesdropping at every cranny, and glaring in with his big gog- 
gling eyes at every window where there was a light, so as to 
throw two or three maids of honor into fits. It was not until 
the gray dawn began to peer above the mountains that he re- 
turned from his mousing expedition, and related to the prince 
what he had seen. 



THE REPORT OF THE PARROT 187 

"As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of the pal- 
ace," said he, "I beheld through a casement a beautiful princess. 
She was reclining on a couch with attendants nnd physicians 
around her, but she would none of their ministry and relief. 
When they retired, I beheld her draw forth a letter from her 
bosom, and read and kiss it, and give way to loud lamentations ; 
at which, philosopher as I am, I could but be greatly moved." 

The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at these tidings. 
"Too true were thy words, sage Eben Bonabben," cried he; 
"care and sorrow and sleepless nights are the lot of lovers. 
Allah preserve the princess from the blighting influence of this 
thing called love ! " 

Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated the report of 
the owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and alarm. The 
princess was conveyed to the highest tov/er of the palace, every 
avenue to which was strongly guarded. In the meantime a de- 
vouring melancholy had seized upon her, of which no one could 
divine the cause — she refused food and turned a deaf ear to 
every consolation. The most skilful physicians had essayed their 
art in vain ; it was thought some magic spell had been practised 
upon her, and the king made proclamation, declaring that who- 
ever should effect her cure should receive the richest jewel in 
the royal treasury. 

When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of this 
proclamation, he rolled his large eyes and looked more myste- 
rious than ever. 

"Allah Akbar!" exclaimed he, "happy the man that shall 
effect that cure, should he but know what to choose from the 
royal treasury." 

"What mean you, most reverend owl?" said Ahmed. 

" Hearken, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls, you 
must know, are a learned body, and much given to dark and 
dusty research. During my late prowling at night about the 
domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered a college of anti- 



188 THE ALHAMBRA 

quarian ovyls, who hold their meetings in a great vaulted towel 
where the royal treasury is deposited. Here they were discuss- 
ing the forms and inscriptions and designs of ancient gems and 
jewels, and of golden and silver vessels, heaped up in the treas- 
ury, the fashion of every country and age; but mostly they 
were interested about certain relics and talismans that have 
remained in the treasury since the time of Roderick the Goth. 
Among these was a box of sandal-wood secured by bands of 
steel of Oriental workmanship, and inscribed with mystic char- 
acters known only to the learned few. This box and its inscrip- 
tion had occupied the college for several sessions, and had 
caused much long and grave dispute. At the time of my 
visit a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived from Egypt, 
was seated on the lid of the box, lecturing upon the inscrip- 
tion, and he proved from it that the coffer contained the silken 
carpet of the throne of Solomon the Wise ; which doubtless had 
been brought to Toledo by the Jews who took refuge there after 
the downfall of Jerusalem." 

When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue, the 
prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. "I have 
heard," said he, " from the sage Eben Bonabben, of the wonder- 
full properties of that talisman, which disappeared at the fall of 
Jerusalem, and was supposed to be lost to mankind. Doubt- 
less it remains a sealed mystery to the Christians of Toledo. 
If I can get possession of that carpet, my fortune is secure." 

The next day the prince laid aside his rich attire, and 
arrayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the desert. 
He dyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and no one could have 
recognized in him the splendid warrior who had caused such 
admiration and dismay at the tournament. With staff in hand, 
and scrip by his side, and a small pastoral reed, he repaired to 
Toledo, and presenting himself at the gate of the royal palace, an- 
nounced himself as a candidate for the reward offered for the cure 
of the princess. The guards would have driven him away with 



THE POWER OF MUSIC 189 

blows. " What can a vagrant Arab like thyself pretend to do," 
said they, " in a case where the most learned of the land have 
failed 1 " The king, however, overheard the tumult, and ordered 
the Arab to be brought into his presence. 

"Most potent king," said Ahmed, "you behold before you a 
Bedouin Arab, the greater part of whose life has been passed 
in the solitudes of the desert. These solitudes, it is well 
known, are the haunts of demons and evil spirits, who beset us 
poor shepherds in our lonely watchings, enter into and possess 
our flocks and herds, and sometimes render even the patient 
camel furious ; against these, our counter-charm is music ; and 
we have legendary airs handed down from generation to genera- 
tion, that we chant and pipe, to cast forth these evil spirits. 
I am of a gifted line, and possess this power in its fullest force. 
If it be any evil influence of the kind that holds a spell over 
thy daughter, I pledge my head to free her from its sway." 

The king, who was a man of understanding, and knew the 
wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was inspired with 
hope by the confident language of the prince. He conducted 
him immediately to the lofty tower, secured by several doors, in 
the summit of which was the chamber of the princess. The 
windows opened upon a terrace with balustrades, commanding a 
fiew over Toledo and all the surrounding country. The win- 
dows were darkened, for the princess lay within, a prey to a 
devouring grief that refused all alleviation. 

The prince seated himself on a terrace, and performed several 
wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, which he had learnt 
from his attendants in the Generalife at Granada. The prin- 
cess continued insensible, and the doctors who were present 
shook their heads, and smiled with incredulity and contempt : 
at length the prince laid aside the reed, and, to a simple melody, 
chanted the amatory verses of the letter which had declared his 
passion. 

The princess recognized the strain — a fluttering joy stole to 



190 THE ALHAMBRA 

her heart ; she raised her head and listened ; tears rushed to 
her eyes and streamed down her cheeks ; her bosom rose and 
fell with a tumult of emotions. She would have asked for the 
minstrel to be brought into her presence, but maiden coyness 
held her silent. The king read her wishes, and at his command 
Ahmed was conducted into the chamber. The lovers were dis- 
creet ; they but exchanged glances, yet those glances spoke 
volumes. Never was triumph of music more complete. The 
rose had returned to the soft cheek of the princess, the fresh- 
ness to her lip, and the dewy light to her languishing eyes. 

All the physicians present stared at each other with astonish- 
ment. The king regarded the Arab minstrel with admiration 
mixed with awe. "Wonderful youth !" exclaimed he, "thou 
shalt henceforth be the first physician of my court, and no 
other prescription will I take but thy melody. For the present 
receive thy reward, the most precious jewel in my treasury." 

"0 king," replied Ahmed, "I care not for silver or gold or 
precious stones. One relic hast thou in thy treasury, handed 
down from the Moslems, who once owned Toledo — a box of 
sandal-wood containing a silken carpet : give me that box, and 
I am content." 

All present were surprised at the moderation of the Arab, 
and still more when the box of sandal-wood was brought and 
the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine green silk, covered with 
Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. The court physicians looked 
at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and smiled at the 
simplicity of this new practitioner, who could be content with so 
paltry a fee. 

" This carpet," said the prince, " once covered the throne of 
Solomon the Wise; it is worthy of being placed beneath the 
feet of beauty." 

So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath an ottoman 
that had been brought forth for the princess ; then seating him- 
self at her feet — 



THE CARPET OF SOLOMON \^V 

"Who," said he, "shall counteract what is written in the 
book of fate 1 Behold the prediction of the astrologers verified. 
Know, king, that your daughter and I have long loved each 
other in secret. Behold in me the Pilgrim of Love ! " 

These words were scarcely from his lips when the carpet 
rose in the air, bearing off the prince and princess. The king 
and the physicians gazed after it with open mouths and strain- 
ing eyes until it became a little speck on the white bosom of a 
cloud, and then disappeared in the blue vault of heaven. 

The king in a rage summoned his treasurer. "How is this," 
said he, " that thou hast sufi:ered an infidel to get possession of 
such a talisman ? " 

" Alas, sir, we knew not its nature, nor could we decipher 
the inscription of the box. If it be indeed the carpet of the 
throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed of magic power, 
and can transport its owner from place to place through the 
air." 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set off for Granada 
in pursuit of the fugitives. His march was long and toilsome. 
Encamping in the Vega, he sent a herald to demand restitu- 
tion of his daughter. The king himself came forth with all his 
court to meet him. In the king he beheld the real minstrel, 
for Ahmed had succeeded to the throne on the death of his 
father, and the beautiful Aldegonda was his sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified when he found that 
his daughter was suffered to continue in her faith ; not that he 
was particularly pious, but religion is always a point of pride 
and etiquette with princes. Instead of bloody battles, there 
was a succession of feasts and rejoicings, after which the king 
returned well pleased to Toledo, and the youthful couple con- 
tinued to reign as happily as wisely, in the Alhambra. 

It is proper to add, that the owl and the parrot had severally 
followed the prince by easy stages to Granada ; the former trav- 
elling by night, and stopping at the various hereditary posses- 



l92 THE ALHAMBRA 

sions of his family ; the latter figuring in gay circles of every 
town and city on his route. 

Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had ren- 
dered on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owl his prime min- 
ister, the parrot his master of ceremonies. It is needless to say 
that never was a realm more sagely administered, nor a court 
conducted with more exact punctilio. 



A KAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS 

I USED frequently to amuse myself towards the close of the 
day, when the heat had subsided, with taking long rambles 
about the neighboring hills, and the deep umbrageous valleys, 
accompanied by my historiographic squire, Mateo, to whose 
passion for gossiping I on such occasions gave the most un- 
bounded license ; and there was scarce a rock, or ruin, or 
broken fountain, or lonely glen, about which he had not some 
marvellous story ; or, above all, some golden legend ; for never 
was poor devil so munificent in dispensing hidden treasures. 

In the course of one of these strolls Mateo was more than usu- 
ally communicative. It was towards sunset that we sallied forth 
from the great Gate of Justice, and ascended an alley of trees 
until we came to a clump of figs and pomegranates at the foot 
of the Tower of the Seven Floors (de los siete suelos), the iden- 
tical tower whence Boabdil is said to have issued, when he sur- 
rendered his capital. Here, pointing to a low archway in the 
foundation, Mateo informed me of a monstrous sprite or hob- 
goblin, said to infest this tower, ever since the time of the 
Moors, and to guard the treasures of a Moslem king. Some- 
times it issues forth in the dead of the night, and scours the 
avenues of the Alhambra, and the streets of Granada, in the 
shape of a headless horse, pursued by six dogs with terrible 
yells and bowlings. 



THE RAVIJVE OF THE JAR 193 

" But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in any of 
your rambles ? " demanded I. 

" No, Seiior, God be thanked ! but my grandfather, the 
tailor, knew several persons that had seen it, for it went about 
much oftener in his time than at present ; sometimes in one 
shape, sometimes in another. Everybody in Granada has heard 
of the Belludo, for the old women and the nurses frighten the 
children with it when they cry. Some say it is the spirit of a 
cruel Moorish king, who killed his six sons and buried them in 
these vaults, and that they hunt him at nights in revenge." 

I forbear to dwell upon the marvellous details given by the 
simple-minded Mateo about this redoubtable phantom, which has, 
in fact, been time out of mind a favorite theme of nursery tales 
and popular tradition in Granada, and of which honorable men- 
tion is ma<le by an ancient and learned historian and topographer 
of the place. 

Leaving this eventful pile, we continued our course, skirting 
the fruitful orchards of the Generalife, in which two or three 
nightingales were pouring forth a rich strain of melody. Be- 
hind these orchards we passed "a number of Moorish tanks, 
with a door cut into the rocky bosom of the hill, but closed up. 
These tanks, Mateo informed me, were favorite bathing-places 
of himself and his comrades in boyhood, until frightened away 
by a story of a hideous Moor, who used to issue forth from the 
door in the rock to entrap unwary bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued our 
ramble up a solitary mule-path winding among the hills, and 
soon found ourselves amidst wild and melancholy mountains, 
destitute of trees, and here and there tinted with scanty verdure. 
Everything within sight was severe and sterile, and it was 
scarcely possible to realize the idea that but a short distance 
behind us was the Generalife, with its blooming orchards and 
terraced gardens, and that we were in the vicinity of delicious 
Granada, that city of groves and fountains. But such is the 



194 THE ALHAMBRA 

nature of Spain; wild and stern the moment it escapes from 
cultivation ; the desert and the garden are ever side by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing is called, accoid- 
ing to Mateo, el Barranco de la tinaja, or the ravine of the 
jar, because a jar full of Moorish gold was found here in old 
times. The brain of poor Mateo was continually running upon 
these golden legends. 

" But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder upon a 
heap of stones, in that narrow part of the ravine?" 

"Oh, that's nothing — a muleteer was murdered there some 
years since." 

"So then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers even at 
the gates of the Alhambra ? " 

"Not at present, Seiior; that was formerly, when there used 
to be many loose fellows about the fortress; but they've all 
been weeded out. Not but that the gipsies who live in caves 
in the hill-sides, just out of the fortress, are many of them fit 
for anything ; but we have had no murder about here for a long 
time past. The man who murdered the muleteer was hanged 
in the fortress." 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, rugged 
height to our left, called the " Silla del Moro," or Chair of the 
Moor, from the tradition already alluded to, that the unfortunate 
Boabdil fled thither during a popular insurrection, and remained 
all day seated on the rocky summit, looking mournfully down 
on his factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the promontory 
above Granada, called the, mountain of the sun. The evening 
was approaching; the setting sun just gilded the loftiest heights 
Here and there a solitary shepherd might be descried driving 
his flock down the declivities, to be folded for the night; oi 
a muleteer and his lagging animals, threading some mountaic 
path to arrive at the city gates before nightfall. 

Presently the deep tones of the Cathedral bell came swelling 



SUBTERRANEAN CAVERNS 195 

up the defiles, proclaiming the hour of "oration" or prayer. 
The note was responded to from the belfry of every church, and 
from the sweet bells of the convents among the mountains. 
The shepherd paused on the fold of the hill, the muleteer in 
the midst of the road; each took off his hat and remained 
motionless for a time, murmuring his evening prayer. There 
is always something pleasingly solemn in this custom, by which, 
at a melodious signal, every human being throughout the land 
unites at the same moment in a tribute of thanks to God for 
the mercies of the day. It spreads a transient sanctity over 
the land, and the sight of the sun sinking in all his glory adds 
not a little to the solemnity of the scene. 

In the present instance the effect was heightened by the wild 
and lonely nature of the place. We were on the naked and 
broken summit of the haunted mountain of the sun, where 
ruined tanks and cisterns, and the mouldering foundations of 
extensive buildings, spoke of former populousness, but where 
all was now silent and desolate. 

As we were wandering about among these traces of old times, 
we came to a, circular pit, penetrating deep into the bosom of 
the mountain ; which Mateo pointed out as one of the wonders 
and mysteries of the place. I supposed it to be a well dug by 
the indefatigable Moors, to obtain their favorite element in its 
greatest purity. Mateo, however, had a different story, and 
one much more to his humor. Accor4ing to a tradition, in 
which his father and grandfather firmly believed, this was an 
entrance to the subterranean caverns of the mountain, in which 
Boabdil and his court ky bound in magic spell; and whence 
they sallied forth at night, at allotted times, to revisit their 
ancient abodes. 

"Ah, Senor, this mountain is full of wonders of the kind. 
In another place there was a hole somewhat like this, and just 
within it hung an iron pot by a chain ; nobody knew what was 
in that pot, for it was always covered up; but everybody sup- 



196 THE ALHAMBRA 

posed it full of Moorish gold. Many tried to draw it forth, fot 
it seemed just within reach ; but the moment it was touched it 
would sink far, far down, and not come up again for some time. 
At last one who thought it must be enchanted touched it with 
the cross, by way of breaking the charm; and faith he did 
break it, for the pot sank out of sight and never was seen any 
more. 

"All this is fact, Seuor; for my grandfather was an eye- 
witness." 

"What! Mateo; did he see the pot?" 

" No, Seiior, but he saw the hole where the pot had hung." 

"It's the same thing, Mateo." 

The deepening twilight, w^hich in this climate is of short 
duration, admonished us to leave this haunted ground. As we 
descended the mountain defile, there was no longer herdsman 
nor muleteer to be seen, nor anything to be heard but our own 
footsteps and the lonely chirping of the cricket. The shadows 
of the valley grew deeper and deeper, until all was dark around 
us. The lofty summit of the Sierra Nevada alone retained a 
lingering gleam of daylight; its snowy peaks glaring against 
the dark blue firmament, and seeming close to us, from the 
extreme purity of the atmosphere. 

" How near the Sierra looks this evening ! " said Mateo ; 
" it seems as if you could touch it with your hand ; and yet it 
is many long leagues, off." While he was speaking, a star 
appeared over the snowy summit of the mountain, the only one 
yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so large, so bright and 
beautiful, as to call forth ejaculations of delight from honest 
Mateo. 

^^ Que estrella hermosa / que clara y limpia es I — No pueda 
ser estrella mas hrillante I " 

(What a beautiful star! how clear and lucid — a star could 
not be more brilliant !) 

I have often remarked this sensibility of the common people 



LIGHTS ON THE MOUNTAIN 197 

of Spain to the charms of natural objects. The lustre of a 
star, the beauty or fragrance of a flower, the crystal purity of 
a fountain, will inspire them with a kind of poeticcil delight ; 
and tlien, what euphonious words their magnificent language 
affords, with which to give utterance to their transports ! 

"But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twinkling 
along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy region, and 
which might be taken for stars, only that they are ruddy, and 
against the dark side of the mountain 1 " 

" Those, Seiior, are fires, made by the men who gather snow 
and ice for the supply of Granada. They go up every after- 
noon with mules and asses, and take turns, some to rest and 
warm themselves by the fires, while others fill the panniers 
with ice. They then set off down the mountains, so as to 
reach the gates of Granada before sunrise. That Sierra Ne- 
vada, Seuor, is a lump of ice in the middle of Andalusia, to 
keep it all cool in summer." 

It was now completely dark ; we were passing through the 
barranco, where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer, when 
I beheld a number of lights moving at a distance, and appar- 
ently advancing up the ravine. On nearer approach, they 
proved to be torches borne by a train of uncouth figures ar- 
rayed in black : it would have been a procession dreary 
enough at any time, but was peculiarly so in this wild and 
solitary place. 

Mateo drew near, and told me, in a low voice, that it was a 
funeral train bearing a corpse to the burving-ground among the 
hills. 

As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the 
torches, falling on the rugged features and funeral weeds of the 
attendants, had the most fantastic effect, but was perfectly 
ghastly, as it revealed the countenance of the corpse, which, 
according to the Spanish custom, was borne uncovered on an 
open bier. I remained for some time gazijig after the dreary 



198 THE ALHAMBRA 

train as it wound up the dark defile of the mountain. It put 
me in mind of the old story of a procession of demons bearing 
the body of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli. 

"Ah ! Senor," cried Mateo, "I could tell you a story of a 
procession once seen among these mountains, but then you'd 
laugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies of my grand- 
father the tailor." 

"By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more than 
a marvellous tale." 

"AVell, Seilor, it is about one of those very men we have 
been talking of, who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada 

"You must know, that a great many years since, in my 
grandfather's time, there was an old fellow, Tio Nicolo (Uncle 
Nicholas) by name, who had filled the panniers of his mule 
with snow and ice, and was returning down the mountain. 
Being very drowsy, he mounted upon the mule, and soon fall- 
ing asleep, went with his head nodding and bobbing about 
from side to side, while his sure-footed old mule stepped along 
the edge of precipices, and down steep and broken barrancos, 
just as safe and steady as if it had been on plain ground. At 
length Tio Nicolo awoke, and gazed about him, and rubbed his 
eyes — and, in good truth, he had reason. The moon shone 
almost as bright as day, and he saw the city below him, as 
plain as your hand, and shining with its white buildings, like a 
silver platter, in the moonshine ; but, Lord ! Seiiior, it w^as 
nothing like the city he had left a few hours before ! Instead 
of the cathedral, with its great dome and turrets, and the 
churches with their spires, and the convents with their pinna- 
cles, all surmounted with the blessed cross, he saw nothing 
but Moorish mosques, and minarets, and cupolas, all topped 
off Avith glittering crescents, such as you see on the Barbary 
flags. Well, Senor, as you may suppose, Tio Nicolo was 
mightily puzzled at all this, but while he was gazing down 
upon the city, a great army came marching up the mountain^!. 



THE PHANTOM ARMY 190 

vviiKlinc' along the ravines, sometimes in the moonshine, some- 
times in the shade. As it drew nigh, he saw that there were 
horse and foot, all in Moorish armor. Tio Nicolo tried to 
scramble out of their way, but his old mule stood stock still, 
and refused to budge, trembling, at the same time, like a leat, 
— for dumb beasts, Sefior, are just as much frightened at such 
things as human beings. Well, Senor, the hobgoblin army 
came marching by ; there were men that seemed to blow trum- 
pets, and others to beats drums and strike cymbals, yet never 
a sound did they make ; they all moved on without the least 
noise just as I have seen painted armies move across the stage 
in the theatre of Granada, and all looked as pale as death At 
last in the rear of the army, between two black Moorish horse- 
men rode the Grand Inquisitor of Granada, on a mule as white 
as snow. Tio Nicolo wondered to see him m such company, 
for the Inquisitor was famous for his hatred of Moors, and, 
indeed, of all kinds of Infidels, Jews, and heretics, and used to 
hunt them out with fire and scourge. However, Tio Nicolo 
felt himself safe, now that there was a priest of such sanctity 
at hand. So making the sign of the cross, he called out for 
his benediction, when, hombre ! he received a blow that sent 
him and his old mule over the edge of a steep bank, down 
which they rolled, head-over-heels, to the bottom ! Tio Nicolo 
did not come to his senses until long after sunrise, when he 
found himself at the bottom of a deep ravine, his mule grazing 
beside him, and his panniers of snow completely melted. He 
crawled back to Granada sorely bruised and battered, but was 
glad to find the city looking as usual, with Christian churches 
and crosses. When he told the story of his night's adventure, 
every one laughed at him ; some said he had dreamed it all, as 
he dozed on his mule : others thought it all a fabrication of his 
own ; but what was strange, Senor, and made people afterwards 
think more seriously of the matter, was, that the Grand In- 
tiuisitor died within the year. I have often heard my grand- 



200 THE ALHAMBRA 

father, the tailor, say, that there was more meant by thai 
hobgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of the priest, than 
folks dared to surmise." 

"Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, that there is a 
kind of Moorish limbo, or purgatory, in the bowels of these 
mountains, to which the padre Inquisitor was borne oif." 

" God forbid, Seiior ! I know nothing of the matter. I 
only relate what I heard from my grandfather." 

By the time Mateo had finished the tale, which I have more 
succinctly related, and which was interlarded with many com- 
ments, and spun out with minute details, we reached the gate 
of the Alhambra. 

The marvellous stories hinted at by Mateo, in the early part 
of our ramble about the Tower of the Seven Floors, set me as 
usual upon my goblin researches. I found that the redoubta- 
ble phantom, the Belludo, had been time out of mind a favorite 
theme of nursery tales and popular traditions in Granada, and 
that honorable mention had even been made of it by an ancient 
historian and topographer of the place. The scattered members 
of one of these popular traditions I have gathered together, col- 
lated them with infinite pains, and digested them into the fol- 
lowing legend ; which only wants a number of learned notes 
and references at bottom to take its rank among those concrete 
productions gravely passed upon the world for Historical Facts. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of the 
royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the Place or 
Square of the Cisterns {la Plaza de los Algihes), so called from 
being undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight, 
and which have existed from the time of the Moors. At one 
corner of this" esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through the liv 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 201 

ing rock to a great depth, the water of which is cold as ice and 
clear as crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in 
repute, for it is well known what pains they took to penetrate 
to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. The one of 
which we now speak is famous throughout Granada, insomuch 
that water-carriers, some bearing great water-jars on their 
shoulders, others driving asses before them laden with earthen 
vessels, are ascending and descending the steep woody avenues 
of the Alhambra, from early dawn until a late hour of the 
night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, have 
been noted gossiping-places in hot climates; and at the well 
in question there is a kind of perpetual club kept up during the 
livelong day, by the invalids, old women, and other curious do- 
nothing folk of the fortress, who sit here on the stone benches, 
under an awning spread over the well to shelter the toll-gath- 
erer from the sun, and dawdle over the gossip of the fortress, 
and question every water-carrier that arrives about the news of 
the city, and make long comments on everything they hear and 
see. Not an hour of the day but loitering housewives and idle 
maid-servants may be seen, lingering, with pitcher on head or 
in hand, to hear the last of the endless tattle of these worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this well, 
there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged little fellow, 
named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. Being a 
water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or native of Gallicia, of course. 
Nature seems to have formed races of men, as she has of ani- 
mals, for different kinds of drudgery. In France the shoeblacks 
are all Savoyards, the porters of hotels all Swiss, and in the 
days of hoops and hair-powder in England, no man could give 
the regular swing to a sedan-chair but a bog-trotting Irishman. 
So in Spain, the carriers of water and bearers of burdens are all 
sturdy little natives of Gallicia. No man says, *' Get me a 
porter," but, "Call a Gallego." 



202 THE ALHAMBRA 

To return from this digression, Peregil the Gallego had be 
gun business with merely a great earthen jar which he carried 
upon his shoulder; by degrees he rose in the world, and was 
enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspondent class of 
animals, being a stout shaggy-haired donkey. On each side of 
this his long-eared aide-de-camp, in a kind of pannier, were 
slung his water-jars, covered with fig-leaves to protect them 
from the sun. There was not a more industrious water-carrier 
in all Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang 
with his cheerful voice as he trudged after his donkey, singing 
forth the usual summer note that resounds through the Spanisli 
towns : " Quien quiere agua — agua 7nas fria que la nieve ? " 
— " Who wants water — water colder than snow 1 Who 
wants water from the well of the Alhambra, cold as ice and 
clear as crystal ? " When he served a customer with a spark- 
ling glass, it was always with a pleasant word that caused a 
smile ; and if, perchance, it was a comely dame or dimpling 
damsel, it was always with a sly leer and a compliment to her 
beauty that was irresistible. Thus Peregil the Gallego was 
noted throughout all Granada for being one of the civilest, 
pleasantest, and happiest of mortals. Yet it is not he who 
sings loudest and jokes most that has the lightest heart. Un- 
der all this air of merriment, honest Peregil had his cares and 
troubles. He had a large family of ragged children to support, 
who were hungry and clamorous as a nest of young swallows, 
and beset him with their outcries for food whenever he came 
home of an evening. He had a helpmate, too, who was any- 
thing but a help to him. Slie had been a village beauty before 
marriage, noted for her skill at dancing the bolero and rattling 
the castanets ; and she still retained her early propensities, 
spending the hard earnings of honest Peregil in frippery, and 
laying the very donkey under requisition for junketing parties 
into the country on Sundays and saints' days, a»d those innum- 
erable holidays, which are rather more numerous in Spain than 



THE WELL OF THE ALHAMBRA 203 

the days of the week. With all this she was a little of a slat- 
tern, something more of a lie-abed, and, above all, a gossip of 
the first water ; neglecting house, household, and every thmg else, 
to loiter slipshod in the houses of her gossip neighbors 

He however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, ac- 
commodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive neck 
Peregil bore all the heavy dispensations of wife and children 
with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water-jars ; and, 
however he might shake his ears in private, never ventured to 
question the household virtues of his slattern spouse. 

He loved his children, too, even as an owl loves its owlets, 
seeing in them his own image multiplied and perpetuated ; for 
they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy-legged little brood 
The great pleasure of honest Peregil was, whenever he could 
afford himself a scanty holiday, and had a handful of maravedis 
to spare, to take the whole litter forth with him some in his 
"arms, some tugging at his skirts and «««^f^trudging at his 
heels and to treat them to a gambol among the orchards of the 
Vega, while his wife was dancing with her holiday friends m 
the Angosturas of the Darro. , . ^u ^- 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the water- 
carriers had desisted from th^ir toils. The day had been uncom- 
monly sultrv: the night was one of those dehcious moonlights 
which tempt the inhabitants of southern climes to mdemnify 
themselves for the heat and inaction of the day, by hngering m 
the open air, and enjoying its tempered sweetness mitilafer 
midniUt. Customers for water were therefore stdl abroad. 
PeregS, like a considerate, painstaking father, thought ot his 
hungry children. "One more journey to the well,' said ^he to 
himself, "to earn a Sunday's puchero for the little ones So 
saying, he trudged manfully up the steep avenue of the Alham- 
bra singing as he went, and now and then bestowmg a hearty 
thwack Vi!h a cudgel on the flanks of his donkey, either by 
way of cadence to the song, or refreshment to the animal, toi 



204 THE ALHAMBRA 

dry blows serve in lieu of provender in Spain for all beasts of 
burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every one 
except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on a stone 
bench in the moonlight. Peregil paused at first and regarded 
him with surprise, not unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebly 
beckoned him to approach. " I am faint and ill," said he ; 
"aid me to return to the city, and I will pay thee double what 
thou couldst gain by thy jars of water. '"^ 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched with 
compassion at the appeal of the stranger. " God forbid," said 
he, " that I should ask fee or reward for doing a common act of 
humanity." He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, 
and set off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so weak 
that it was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep him 
from falling to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded 
whither he sliould conduct him. " Alas ! " said the Moor, 
faintly, " I have neither home nor habitation ; I am a stranger 
in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath thy 
roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid." 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled witli 
an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night's 
shelter to a fellow-being in so forlorn a plight; so he conducted 
the Moor to his dwelling. The children, who had sallied forth 
open-mouthed as usual on hearing the tramp of the donkey, ran 
back with affright when they beheld the turbaned stranger, and 
hid themselves behind their mother. The latter stepped forth 
intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood when a vagrant 
dog approaches. 

"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have 
brought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of 
the Inquisition % " 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego; "here is a poor sick 



THE TURBANED GUEST 205 

sti anger, without friend or home; wouldst thpu turn liim forth 
to perish in the streets?" . ., . ui i u 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for although she 
lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the credit of her 
house • the little water-carrier, however, for once was stiffnecked, 
and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He assisted the poor 
Moslem to alight, and spread a mat and a sheep-skin for him, 
on the ground, in the coolest part of the house; being the only 
kind of\ed that his poverty afforded. ^ 

In a little while the Moor was seized with violent convulsions, 
which defied all the ministering skill of the simple water-carrier. 
The eye of the poor patient acknowledged his kindness. During 
an interval of his fits he called him to his side, and addressing 
him in a low voice, " My end," said he, " I fear is at hand. If 
I die I bequeath you this box as a reward for your charity 
So saving he opened his albornoz, or cloak, and showed a small 
box of sandal-wood, strapped round his body. " God grant, my 
friend," replied the worthy little Gallego, "that you inay live 
many years to enjoy your treasure, whatever it may be. I he 
Moor shook his head; he laid his hand upon the box, and would 
have said something more concerning it, but his convulsions re- 
turned with increasing violence, and in a httle while he expired. 
The water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. Ihis 
comes," said she, "of your foolish good-nature, always running 
into scrapes to oblige others. What will become ot us when 
this corpse is found in our house? We shall be sent to prison 
as murderers; and, if we escape with our lives, shall be rumed 
by notaries and alguazils. , , ^ wi 

^ Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented 
himself of having done a good deed. At length a thought 
struck him. " It is not yet day," said he; " I can convey the 
dead body out of the city, and bury it in the sands on the banks 
of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our dwelling, and 
no one will know anything of his death." 



206 THE ALHAMBRA 

So said, so done. The wife aided him ; they rolled the body 
of the unfortunate Moslem in the mat on which he had expired, 
laid it across the ass, and Peregil set out with it for the banks 
of the river. 

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water- 
carrier a barber named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the most prying, 
tattling, and mischief-making of his gossip tribe. He was a 
weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and insinuating; the 
famous barber of Seville could not surpass him for his universal 
knowledge of the affairs of others, and he had no more power of 
retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept but with one 
eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that even in his 
sleep he might see and hear all that was going on. Certain it is, 
he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the quidnuncs of Gra- 
nada, and had more customers than all the rest of his fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusual 
hour at night, and the exclamations of his wife and children. 
His head was instantly popped out of a little window which 
served him as a look-out, and he saw his neighbor assist a man 
in Moorish garb into his dwelling. This was so strange an 
occurrence, that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that night. 
Every five minutes he was at his loophole, watching the lights 
that gleamed through the chinks of his neighbor's door, and 
before daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey 
unusually laden. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his 
clothes, and, stealing forth silently, followed the water-carrier at 
a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank of 
the Xenil, and bury something that had the appearance of a 
dead body. 

The barber hied him home, and fidgeted about his shop, set- 
tirg everything upside down, until sunrise. He then took a 
basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house of his daily 
customer the alcalde. 



A GOSSIP BARBER 207 

The alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him in 
a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin of hot 
water under his chin, and began to mollify his beard with his 
fingers. 

" Strange doings !" said Pedrugo, who played barber and news- 
monger at the same time, — " strange doings ! Robbery, and 
murder, and burial all in one night ! " 

" Hey ! — how ! — what is that you say ? " cried the alcalde. 

" I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap over the 
nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish barber disdains 
to employ a brush, — " I say that Peregil the Gallego has robbed 
and murdered a Moorish Mussulman, and buried him, this blessed 
night. Maldita sea lanoche; — accursed be the night for the 
same ! " 

" But how do you know all this 1 " demanded the alcalde. 

"Be patient, Senor, and you shall hear all about it," replied 
Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a razor over his 
cheek. He then recounted all that he had seen, going through 
both operations at the same time, shaving his beard, washing 
his chin, and wiping him dry with a dirty napkin, while he was 
robbing, murdering, and burying the Moslem. 

Now it so happened that this alcalde was one of the most 
overbearing, and at the same time most griping and corrupt 
curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be denied, however, 
that he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight 
in gold. He presumed the case in point to be one of murder 
and robbery ; doubtless there must be a rich spoil ; how was it 
to be secured into the legitimate hands of the law 1 for as to 
merely entrapping the delinquent — that would be feeding the 
gallows; but entrapping the booty — that would be enriching 
the judge, and such, according to his creed, was the great end 
of justice. So thinking, he summoned to his presence his trusti- 
est alguazil — a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad, according to 
the custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb, a broad 



208 THE ALHAMBRA 

black beaver turned up at its sides; a quaint ruft"; a small 
black cloak dangling from his shoulders ; rusty black under- 
clothes that set off his spare wiry frame, while in his hand he 
bore a slender white wand, the dreaded insignia of his office. 
Such was the legal bloodhound of the ancient Spanish breed, 
that he put upon the traces of tlie unlucky water-carrier, and 
such was his speed and certainty, that he was upon the haunches 
of poor Peregil before he had returned to his dwelling, and 
brought both him and his donkey before the dispenser of justice. 

The alcalde bent upon him one of the most terrific frowns. 
" Hark ye, culprit ! " roared he, in a voice that made the knees 
of the little Gallego smite together, — " hark ye, culprit ! there 
is no need of denying thy guilt, everything is known to me. A 
gallows is the proper reward for the crime thou hast committed, 
but I am merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man that 
has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel, the enemy 
of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious zeal that 
thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore ; render up 
the property of which thou hast robbed him, and we will hush 
the matter up." 

The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to witness 
his innocence ; alas ! not one of them appeared ; and if they 
had, the alcalde would have disbelieved the whole calendar. 
The water-carrier related the whole story of the dying Moor 
with the straightforward simplicity of truth, but it was all in 
vain. "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge, 
" that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which were the 
object of thy cupidity ? " 

"As I hope to be saved, your worship," replied the water- 
carrier, " he had nothing but a small box of sandal- wood, which 
he bequeathed to me in reward for my services." 

" A box of sandal- wood ! a box of sandal- wood ! " exclaimed 
the alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels. 
" And where is this box ? where have you concealed it 1 " 



THE BOX OF SANDAL-WOOD 209 

"An' it please your grace," replied the water-carrier, "it is 
in one of the panniers of ray mule, and heartily at the service 
of your worship." 

He had hardly spoken the words, when the keen alguazil 
darted off, and reappeared in an instant with tlie mysterious 
box of sandal-wood. The alcalde opened it with an eager and 
trembling hand ; all pressed forward to gaze upon the treasure 
it was expected to contain ; when, to their disappointment, 
nothing appeared within, but a parchment scroll, covered with 
Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper. 

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of a 
prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. The 
alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment, and found 
that there was really no booty in the case, now listened dispas- 
sionately to the explanation of the water-carrier, which was 
corroborated by the testimony of his wife. Being convinced, 
therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest ; nay 
more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box 
of sandal-wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward of 
his humanity ; but he retained his donkey in payment of costs 
and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more to the 
necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudging up to the 
well of the Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon his shoulder. 

As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a summer noon, his 
usual good-humor forsook him. " Dog of an alcalde ! " would 
he cry, " to rob a poor man of the means of his subsistence, of 
the best friend he had in the world ! " And then at the re- 
membrance of the beloved companion of his labors, all the 
kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey of 
my heart ! " would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, 
and wiping the sweat from his brow, — "ah, donkey of my 
heart ! I warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master ! J 
warrant me thou missest the water-jars — poor beast." 



210 THE ALHAMBRA 

To add to his afflictions, his wife received him, on his return 
home, with whimperings and repinings ; she had clearly the 
vantage-ground of hira, having warned him not to commit the 
egregious act of hospitality which had brought on him all these 
misfortunes ; and, like a knowing woman, she took every 
occasion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If her 
children lacked food, or needed a new garment, she could answer 
with a sneer, " Go to your father — he is heir to king Chico of 
the Alhambra : ask him to help you out of the Moor's strong 
box." 

Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for having done a 
good action '? The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh and 
spirit, but still he bore meekly with the railings of his spouse. 
At length, one evening, when, after a hot day's toil, she taunted 
him in the usual manner, he lost all patience. He did not 
venture to retort upon lier, but his eye rested upon the box of 
sandal-wood, which lay on the shelf with lid half open, as if 
laughing in mockery at his vexation. Seizing it up, he dashed 
it with indignation to the floor. " Unlucky was the day that 
I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered thy master 
beneath my roof ! " 

As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide open, and the 
parchment scroll rolled forth. 

Peregil sat regarding the scroll for some time in moody 
silence. At length rallying his ideas, "Who knows," thought 
he, " but this writing may be of some importance, as the Moor 
seems to have guarded it with such care ? " Picking it up 
therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the next morning, as he 
was crying water through the streets, he stopped at the shop 
of a Moor, a native of Tahgiers, who sold trinkets and perfum- 
ery in the Zacatin, and asked him to explain the contents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard 
and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, "is a form of incanta- 
tion for the recovery of hidden treasure that is under the power 



PEREGIL AND THE MOOR 211 

of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue that the strong:- 
est bolts and bars, nay the adamantine rock itself, will yield 
before it ! " 

" Bah ! " cried the little Gallego, " what is all that to me 1 
I am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." So 
saying, he shouldered his water-jar, left the scroll in the hands 
of the Moor, and trudged forward on his daily rounds. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about twilight at 
the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips assem- 
bled at the place, and their conversation, as is not unusual at that 
shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and traditions of a super- 
natural nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt with pecul- 
iar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted riches left 
by the Moors in various parts of the Alhambra. Above all, 
they concurred in the belief that there were great treasures 
buried deep in the earth under the tower of the seven floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind of the 
honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into his thoughts 
as he returned alone down the darkling avenues. " If, after all, 
there should be treasure hid beneath that tower ; and if the 
scroll I left with the Moor should enable me to get at it ! " In 
the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had wellnigh let fall his 
water-jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get a 
wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain. 
Bright and early he repaired to the shop of the Moor, and told 
him all that was passing in his mind. "You can read Arabic," 
said he; "suppose we go together to the tower, and try the 
effect of the charm ; if it fails, we are no worse off than before ; 
but if it succeeds, we will share equally all the treasure we may 
discover." 

" Hold," replied the Moslem ; " this writing is not sufficient 
of itself ; it must be read at midnight, by the light of a taper 
singularly compounded and prepared, the ingredients of which 



212 ,THE ALHAMBRA 

are not within my reach. Without such a taper the scroll is of 
no avail." 

" Say no more ! " cried the little Gallego ; "I have such a 
taper at hand, and will bring it here in a moment," So say- 
ing, he hastened home, and soon returned with the end of 
yellow wax taper that he had found in the box of sandal- 
wood. 

The Moor felt it and smelt to it. " Here are rare and costly 
perfumes," said he, "combined with this yellow wax. This is 
the kind of taper specified in the scroll. While this burns, the 
strongest walls and most secret caverns will remain open. Woe 
to him, however, who lingers within until it be extinguished. 
He will remain enchanted with the treasure." 

It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very 
night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring 
but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of the Alham- 
bra, and approached that awful tower, shrouded by trees and 
rendered formidable by so many traditionary tales. By the 
light of a lantern they groped their way through bushes, and 
over fallen stones, to the door of a vault beneath the tower. 
With fear and trembling they descended a flight of steps cut 
into the rock. It led to an empty chamber, damp and drear, 
from which another flight of steps led to a deeper vault. In 
this way they descended four several flights, leading into as 
many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the fourth 
was solid ; and though, according to tradition, there remained 
three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible to pene- 
trate further, the residue being shut up by strong enchant- 
ment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and had an 
earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth any rays. They 
paused here for a time, in breathless suspense, until they faintly 
heard the clock of the watch-tower strike midnight ; upon this 
they lit the waxen taper, which diffused an odor of myrrh and 
frankincense and storax. 



THE INCANTATION 213 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce 
finished when there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder. 
The earth shook, and the floor, yawning open, disclosed a flight 
of steps. Trembling with awe, they descended, and by the 
light of the lantern found themselves in another vault covered 
with Arabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a great chest, 
secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an 
enchanted Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue, being 
controlled by the power of the incantation. Before the chest 
were several jars filled with gold and silver and precious stones. 
In the largest of these they thrust their arms up to the elbow, 
and at every dip hauled forth handfuls of broad yellow pieces 
of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of the same pre- 
cious metal, while occasionally a necklace of Oriental pearl 
would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled and breathed 
short while cranmiing their pockets with the spoils ; and cast 
many a fearful glance at the two enchanted Moors, who sat 
grim and motionless, glaring upon them with unwinking eyes. 
At length, struck with a sudden panic at some fancied noise, 
they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled over one another 
into the upper apartment, overturned and extinguished the 
waxen taper, and the pavement again closed with a thundering 
sound. 

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had groped 
their way out of the tower, and beheld the stars shining through 
the trees. Then seating themselves upon the grass, they di- 
vided the spoil, determining to content themselves for the 
present with this mere skimming of the jars, but to return on 
some future night and drain them to the bottom. To make 
sure of each other's good faith, also, they divided the talismans 
between them, one retaining the scroll and the other the taper; 
this done, they set off with light hearts and well-lined pockets 
for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor 



214 THE ALHAMBRA 

whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple little 
water-carrier. 

"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a 
profound secret until we have secured the treasure, and con- 
veyed it out of harm's way. . If a whisper of it gets to the ear 
of the alcalde, we are undone ! " 

"Certainly," replied the Gallego, "nothing can be more 
true." 

" Friend Peregil," said the Moor, " you are a discreet man, 
and I make no doubt can keep a secret ; but you have a 
wife." 

"She shall not know a word of it," replied the little water- 
carrier, sturdily. 

" Enough," said the Moor, " I depend upon thy discretion 
and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere ; but, alas ! 
what man can keep a secret from his wife ? Certainly not 
such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who was one of the 
most loving and tractable of husbands. On his return home 
he found his wife moping in a corner. " Mighty well," cned 
she as he entered, " you've come at last, after rambling about 
until this hour of the night. I wonder you have not brought 
home another Moor as a house-mate." Then bursting into 
tears, she began to wring her hands and smite her breast, 
" Unhappy woman that I am ! " exclaimed she, " w^hat will 
become of me 1 My house stripped and plundered by lawyers 
and alguazils ; my husband a do-no-good, that no longer brings 
home bread to his family, but goes rambling about day and 
night, with infidel Moors ! my children ! my children ! what 
will become of us 1 We shall all have to beg in the streets ! " 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, 
that he could not help whimpering also. His heart was as full 
as his pocket, and not to be restrained. Thrusting his hand 
into the latter he hauled forth three or four broad gold pieces, 



A DISCREET HUSBAND 215 

and slipped them into her bosom. The poor woman stared with 
astonishment, and could not understand the meaning of this 
golden shower. Before she could recover her surprise, the 
little Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before 
her, capering with exultation, his mouth distended from ear to 
ear. 

" Holy Virgin protect us ! " exclaimed the wife. " What 
hast thou been doing, Peregil 1 Surely thou hast not been com- 
mitting murder and robbery ! " 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman, than it 
became a certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows 
in the distance, and a little bandy-legged Gallego hanging pen- 
dent from it ; and, overcome by the horrors conjured up by 
imagination, fell into violent hysterics. 

What could the poor man do ? He had no other means of 
pacifying his wife, and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy^ 
than by relating the whole story of his good fortune. This, 
however, he did not do until he had exacted from her the most 
solemn promise to keep it a profound secret from every living 
being. 

To describe her joy w^ould be impossible. She flung her arms 
round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled him with 
her caresses. " Now, wife," exclaimed the little man with hon- 
est exultation, " what say you now to the Moor's legacy ? Hence- 
forth never abuse me for helping a fellow-creature in distress." 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheep-skin mat, and slept 
as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife; she 
emptied the whole contents of his pockets upon the mat, and 
sat counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces and 
earrings, and fancying the figure she should one day make when 
permitted to enjoy her riches. 

On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad 
golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweller's shop in the 
Zaoatin to off'er it for sale, pretending to have found it among 



216 THE ALHAMBRA 

the ruins of the Alhambra. The jeweller saw that it had an 
Arabic inscription, and was of the purest gold ; he offered, how- 
ever, but a third of its value, with which the water-carrier was 
perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes for his little 
flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample provisions for 
a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling, set all his children 
dancing around him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest 
of fathers. 

The wife of tlie water-carrier kept her promise of secrecy 
with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she 
went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling almost 
to bursting, yet she held her peace, though surrounded by her 
gossips. It is true, she could not help giving herself a few airs, 
apologized for her ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new 
basquina all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and a new lace 
mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intention of 
leaving off his trade of water-carrying, as it did not altogether 
agree with his health. In fact she thought they should all re- 
tire to the country for the summer, that the children might 
have the benefit of the mountain air, for there was no living 
in the city in this sultry season. 

The neighbors stared at each other, and thought the poor 
woman had lost her wits ; and her airs and graces and elegant 
pretensions were the theme of universal scoffing and merriment 
among her friends, the moment her back was turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified 
herself at home, and putting a string of rich Oriental pearls 
round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms, and an aigrette 
of diamonds on her head, sailed backwards and forwards in her 
slattern rags about the room, now and then stopping to admire 
herself in a broken mirror. Nay, in the impulse of her simple 
vanity, she could not resist, on one occasion, showing herself at 
the window to enjoy the effect of her finery on the passers-by. 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddlesome 



THE SECRET BLOWN 217 

barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop on the oppo- 
site side of the street, when his ever-watchful eye caught the 
sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at his loophole 
reconnoitring the slattern spouse of the water-carrier, decorated 
with the splendor of an eastern bride. No sooner had he taken 
an accurate inventory of her ornaments, than he posted off with 
all speed to the alcalde. In a little while the hungry alguazil 
was again on the scent, and before tiie day was over the unfortu- 
nate Peregil was once more dragged into the presence of the 
judge. 

" How is this, villain ! " cried the alcalde, in a furious voice. 
" You told me that the infidel who died in your house left noth- 
ing behind but an empty coffer, and now I hear of your wife 
flaunting in her rags decked out with pearls and diamonds. 
Wretch that thou art ! prepare to render up the spoils of thy 
miserable victim, and to swing on the gallows that is already 
tired of waiting for thee." 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full 
relation of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his 
wealth. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber 
listened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of enchanted treas- 
ure. The alguazil was dispatched to bring the Moor who had 
assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered half fright- 
ened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the 
harpies of the law. When he beheld the water-carrier stand- 
ing with sheepish looks and downcast countenance, he compre- 
hended the whole matter. "Miserable animal," said he, as he 
passed near him, " did I not warn thee against babbling to thy 
wife?" 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his col- 
league ; but the alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw 
out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investigation. 

"Softly, good Seiior Alcalde," said the Mussulman, who by 
this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self-possession. 



218 THE ALHAMBRA 

"Let us not mar fortune's favors in the scramble for them. 
Nobody knows anything of this matter but ourselves ; let us 
keep the secret. There is wealth enough in the cave to enrich 
us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be produced ; re- 
fuse, and the cave shall remain forever closed." 

The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter 
was an old fox in his profession. "Promise anything," said he, 
"until you get possession of the treasure. You may then seize 
upon the whole, and if he and his accomplice dare to murmur, 
threaten them with the fagot and the stake as infidels and 
sorcerers." 

The alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow and 
turning to the Moor, "This is a strange story," said he, "and 
may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. This veiy 
night you must repeat the incantation in my presence. If there 
be really such treasure, we will share it amicably between us, 
and say nothing further of the matter ; if ye have deceived me, 
expect no mercy at my hands. In the meantime you must 
remain in custody." 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these 
conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the truth of 
their words. 

Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended 
by the alguazil" and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed. 
They conducted the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, 
and were provided with, the stout donkey of the latter to bear 
off" the expected treasifre. They arrived at the tower without 
being observed, and tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended 
into the fourth vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, and 
the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth trembled as 
before, and the pavement opened with a thundering sound, dis- 
closing the narrow flight of steps. The alcalde, the alguazil, 
and the barber were struck aghast, and could not summon cour- 



THE TREASURE 219 

age to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier entered the 
lower vault, and found the two Moors seated as before, silent 
and motionless. They removed two of the great jars, filled 
with golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier bore 
thera ijp one by one upon his shoulders, but though a strong- 
backed little man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he stag- 
gered beneath their weight, and found, when slung on each side 
of his donkey, they were as much as the animal could bear. 

" Let us be content for the present," said the Moor ; " here 
is as much treasure as we can carry off without being perceived, 
and enougli to make us all wealthy to our heart's desire." 

"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded the 
alcalde. 

"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor, "a huge coffer 
bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious 
stones." 

" Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried the grasping 
alcalde. 

"I will descend for no more," said the Moor, doggedly; 
"enough is enough for a reasonable man — more is super- 
fluous." 

"And I," said the water-carrier, "will bring up no further 
burden to break the back of my poor donkey." 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the 
alcalde turned to his two adherents. "Aid me," said he, "to 
bring up the coft'er, and its contents shall be divided between 
us." So saying, he descended the steps, followed with trem- 
bling reluctance by the alguazil and the barber. 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than he 
extinguished the yellow taper; the pavement closed with its 
usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried in its womb. 

He then hastened up the different flight of steps, nor stopped 
until in the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as 
fast as his sliort legs would permit. 



220 THE ALHAMBRA 

"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he oould 
recover breath. " The alcalde and the other two are shut up 
in the vault." 

" It is the will of Allah ! " said the Moor, devoutly. 

" And will you not release them ? " demanded the Gallego. 

" Allah forbid ! " replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. 
" It is written in the book of fate that they shall remain en- 
chanted until some future adventurer arrive to break the charm. 
The will of God be done ! " So saying, he hurled the end of the 
waxen taper far among the gloomy thickets of the glen. 

There was now no remedy; so the Moor and the water-carrier 
proceeded with the richly laden donkey towards the city, nor 
could honest Peregil refrain from hugging and kissing his long- 
eared fellow-laborer, thus restored to him from the clutches of 
the law; and, in fact, it is doubtful which gave the simple- 
hearted little man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the 
treasure, or the recovery of the donkey. 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably 
and fairly, except that the Moor, who had a little taste for 
trinketry, made out to get into his heap the most of the pearls 
and precious stones and other baubles, but then he always gave 
the water-carrier in lieu magnificent jewels of massy gold, of 
five times the size, with which the latter was heartily content. 
They took care not to linger within reach of accidents, but 
made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries. 
The Moor returned to Africa, to his native city of Tangiers, and 
the Gallego, with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made the 
best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the admonition 
and tuition of his wife, he became a personage of some conse- 
quence, for she made the worthy little man array his long body 
and short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his hat 
and a sword by his side, and laying aside his familiar appellation 
of Peregil, assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro Gil : 
his progeny grew up a thriving and merry-hearted, though short 



THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS 221 

and bandy-legged generation, while Senora Gil, befringed, be- 
laced, and betasselled from her head to her heels, with glittering 
rings on every finger, became a model of slattern fashion and 

finery. • i i i. 

As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remamed shut up 
under the great tower of the seven floors, and there they remain 
spellbound at the present day. Whenever there shall be a lack 
in Spain of pimping barbers, sharking alguazils, and corrupt 
alcaldes, they may be sought after; but if they have to wait 
until such time for their deliverance, there is danger of their 
enchantment enduring until doomsday. 

THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS 

In an evening's stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by fig- 
trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, which divides the lands of the 
fortress from those of the Generalife, I was struck with the ro- 
mantic appearance of a Moorish tower in the outer wall of the 
Alhambra, rising high above the tree-tops, and catching the 
ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary window at a great 
height commanded a view of the glen ; and as I was regarding 
it, a young female looked out, with her head adorned with flow- 
er's. She was evidently superior to the usual class of people 
inhabiting the old towers of the fortress; and this sudden 
and picturesque glimpse of her reminded me of the descriptions 
of captive beauties in fairy tales. These fanciful associations 
were increased on being informed by my attendant Mateo, that 
this was the Tower of the Princesses {La Torre de las Infantas) ; 
so called, from having been, according to tradition, the residence 
of the daughters of the Moorish kings. I have since visited the 
tower. It is not generally shown to strangers, though well 
worthy of attention, for the interior is "equal, for beauty of 
architecture and delicacy of ornament, to any part of the pal- 



222 THE ALHAMBRA 

ace. The elegance of the central hall, with its marble fountain, 
its lofty arches, and richly fretted dome ; the arabesques and 
stucco-work of the small but well-proportioned chambers, though 
injured by time and neglect, all accord with the story of its be- 
ing anciently the abode of royal beauty. 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of 
the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Dame An- 
tonio, tells some fanciful traditions about three Moorish prin- 
cesses who were once shut up in this tower by their father, a 
tyrant king of Granada, and were only permitted to ride out at 
night about the hills, wdien no one was permitted to come in 
their way under the pain of death. They still, according to 
her account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in the 
full, riding in lonely places along the mountain-side, on palfreys 
richly caparisoned and sparkling with jewels, but they vanish 
on being spoken to. 

But before I relate anything farther respecting these prin- 
cesses, the reader may be anxious to know something about the 
fair inhabitant of the tower, with her head, dressed with flowers, 
who looked out from the lofty window. She proved to be the 
newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant of invalids ; who, 
though well stricken in years, had had the courage to take to 
his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian damsel. May the 
good old cavalier be happy in his choice, and find the Towner of 
the Princesses a more secure residence for female beauty than 
it seems to have proved in the time of the Moslems, if we may 
believe the following legend ! 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL 
PRINCESSES 

In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, whose 
name was Mohamed, to which his subjects added the appellation 



LEGEND OF THE THREE PRINCESSES 223 

of El Hayzari, or " The Left-handed." Some say he was so 
called on account of his being really more expert with his sinis- 
ter than his dexter hand ; others, because he was prone to take 
everything by the wrong end, or, in other words, to mar where- 
ever he meddled. Certain it is, either through misfortune or 
mismanagement, he was continually hi trouble : thrice was he 
driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely escaped to 
Africa with his life, in the disguise of a fisherman.^ Still he 
was as brave as he was blundering ; and though left-handed, 
wielded his cimeter to such purpose, that he each time reestab- 
lished himself upon his throne by dint of hard fighting. Instead, 
however, of learning wisdom from adversity, he hardened his 
neck, and stiffened his left arm in wilfulness. The evils of a pub- 
lic nature which he thus brought upon himself and his kingdom 
may be learned by those who will delve into the Arabian annals 
of Granada; the present legend deals but with his domestic policy. 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth with a train of 
his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of Elvira he met a 
band of horsemen returning from a foray into the land of the 
Christians. They were conducting a long string of mules laden 
with spoil, and many captives of both sexes, among whom the 
monarch was struck with the appearance of a beautiful damsel, 
richly attired, who sat weeping on a low palfrey, and heeded 
not the consoling words of a duenna who rode beside her. 

The monarch was struck with her beauty, and, on inquiring 
of the captain of the troop, found that she was the daughter of 
the alcayde of a frontier fortress, that had been surprised and 
sacked in the course of the foray. Mohamed claimed her as his 
royal share of the booty, and had her conveyed to his harem in 
the Alhambra. There everything was devised to soothe her 
melancholy ; and the monarch, more and more enamored, sought 
to make her his queen. The Spanish maid at first repulsed his 
addresses : he was an infidel ; he was the open foe of her coun- 
try ; what was worse, he was stricken in years ! 



224 THE ALHAMBRA 

The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail, determined 
to enlist in his favor the duenna, who had been captured with 
the lady. She was an Andalusian by birth, whose Christian 
name is forgotten, being mentioned in Moorish legend by no 
other appellation than that of the discreet Kadiga ; and discreet 
in truth she was, as her whole history makes evident. No 
sooner had the Moorish king held a little private conversation 
with her, than she saw at once the cogency of his reasoning, 
and undertook his cause with her young mistress. 

" Go to, now ! " cried she ; " what is there in all this to 
weep and wail about 1 Is it not better to be mistress of this 
beautiful palace, with all its gardens and fountains, than to be 
shut up within your father's old frontier tower? As to this 
Mohamed being an infidel, what is that to the purpose 1 You 
marry him, not his religion ; and if he is waxing a little old, 
the sooner will you be a widow, and mistress of yourself; at 
any rate, you are in his power, and must either be a queen or 
a slave. When in the hands of a robber, it is better to sell 
one's merchandise for a fair price, than to have it taken by 
main force." 

The arguments of the discreet Kadiga prevailed. The Span- 
ish lady dried her tears, and became the spouse of Mohamed 
the Left-handed; she even conformed, in appearance, to the 
faith of her royal husband ; and her discreet duenna immedi- 
ately became a zealous convert to the Moslem doctrines : it 
was then the latter received the Arabian name of Kadiga, and 
was permitted to remain in the confidential employ of her 
mistress. 

In due process of time the Moorish king was made the proud 
and happy father of three lovely daughters, all born at a birth : 
he could have wished they had been sons, but consoled himself 
with the idea that three daughters at a birth were pretty well 
for a man somewhat stricken in years, and left-handed ! 

As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned his astrolo- 



THE DISCREET KADIGA 225 

gers on this happy event. They cast the nativities of the three 
princesses, and shook their heads. " Daughters, king ! " said 
they, " are always precarious property ; but these will most 
need your watchfulness when they arrive at a marriageable age ; 
at that time gather them under your wings, and trust them to 
no other guardianship." 

Mohamed the Left-handed was acknowledged to be a wise 
king by his courtiers, and was certainly so considered by him- 
self The prediction of the astrologers caused him but little 
disquiet, trusting to his ingenuity to guard his daughters and 
outwit the Fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of the 
monarch ; his queen bore him no more children, and died within 
a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters to his love, and 
to the fidelity of the discreet Kadiga. 

Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses would 
arrive at that period of danger — the marriageable age. " It 
is good, however, to be cautious in time," said the shrewd 
monarch ; so he determined to have them reared in the royal 
castle of Salobreiia^ This was a sumptuous palace, incrusted, 
as it were, in a powerful Moorish fortress on the summit of a 
hill overlooking the Mediterranean sea. It was a royal retreat, 
in which the Moslem monarchs shut up such of their relatives 
as might endanger their safety ; allowing them all kinds of 
Iwxuries and amusements, in the midst of which they passed 
their lives in voluptuous indolence. 

Here the princesses remained, immured from the world, but 
surrounded by enjoyment, £fnd attended by female slaves who 
anticipated their wishes. They had delightful gardens for their 
recreation, filled with the rarest fruits and flowers, with aro- 
matic groves and perfumed baths. On three sides the castle 
looked down upon a rich valley, enamelled with all kinds of 
culture, and bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra mountains; on 
the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea. 



226 THE ALHAMBRA 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate, and under a 
Cloudless sky, the three princesses grew up into wondrous 
beauty ; but, though all reared alike, they gave early tokens of 
diversity of character. Their names were Zayda, Zorayda, and 
Zorahayda ; and such was their order of seniority, for there had 
been precisely three minutes between their births. 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took the 
lead of her sisters in everything, as she had done in entering 
into the world. She was curious and inquisitive, and fond of 
getting at the bottom of things. 

Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which was the reason, 
no doubt, of her delighting to regard her own image in a mirror 
or a fountain, and of her fondness for flowers, and jewels, and 
other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, and 
extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable tenderness, 
as was evident from her number of pet-flowers, and pet-birds, 
and pet-animals, all of which she cherished with the fondest 
care. Her amusements, too, were of a gentle nature, and 
mixed up with musing and reverie. She would sit for hours 
in a balcony, gazing on the sparkling stars of a summer's night, 
or on the sea when lit up by the moon ; and at such times, the 
song of a fisherman, faintly heard from the beach, or the note* 
of a Moorish flute from some gliding bark, sufticed to elevate 
her feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of the elements, 
however, filled her with dismay; and a clap of thunder was 
enough to throw her into a swoon. 

Years rolled on smoothly and serenely ; the discreet Kadiga, 
to whom the princesses were confided, was faithful to her trust, 
and attended them with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobrena, as has been said, was built upon a 
hill on the sea-coast. One of the exterior walls straggled down 
the profile of the hill, until it reached a jutting rock overhang- 
ing the sea, with a narrow sandy beach at its foot, laved by 



THE THREE CAVALIERS 227 

the rippling billows. A small watch-tower on this rock had 
been fitted up as a pavilion, with latticed windows to admit 
the sea-breeze. Here the princesses used to pass the sultry- 
hours of mid-day. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at a window of the 
pavilion, as her sisters, reclining on ottomans, were taking the 
siesta or noontide slumber. Her attention was attracted to a 
galley which came coasting along, with measured strokes of 
the oar. As it drew near, she observed that it was filled with 
armed men. The galley anchored at the foot of the tower : a 
number of Moorish soldiers landed on the narrow beach, con- 
ducting several Christian prisoners. The curious Zayda awak- 
ened her sisters, and all three peeped cautiously through the 
close jalousies of the lattice which screened them from sight. 
Among the prisoners were three Spanish cavaliers, richly dressed. 
They were in the flower of youth, and of noble presence; and 
the lofty manner in which they carried themselves, though 
loaded with chains and surrounded with enemies, bespoke the 
grandeur of their souls. The princesses gazed with intense 
and breathless interest. Cooped up as they had been in this 
castle among female attendants, seeing nothing of the male sex 
but black slaves, or the rude fisherman of the sea-coast, it is not 
to be wondered at that the appearance of three gallant cav- 
aliers, in the pride of youtli and manly beauty, should produce 
some commotion in their bosom. 

" Did ever nobler being tread the earth than that cavalier 
in crimson?" cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters. "See 
how proudly he bears himself, as though all around him were 
his slaves ! " 

" But notice that one in green ! " exclaimed Zorayda. " What 
grace ! what elegance ! what spirit ! " 

The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly gave 
preference to the cavalier in blue. 

The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners were out 



228 THE ALHAMBRA 

of sight, then heaving long-drawn sighs, they turned round, 
looked at each other for a moment, and sat down, musing and 
pensive, on their ottomans. 

The discreet Kadiga found them in this situation ; they 
related what they had seen, and even the withered heart of 
the duenna was warmed, "Poor youths !" exclaimed she, " I'll 
warrant their captivity makes many a fair and high-born lady's 
heart ache in their native land ! Ah ! my children, you have 
little idea of the life these cavaliers lead in their own country. 
Such prankling at tournaments ! such devotion to the ladies ! 
such courting and serenading ! " 

The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused ; she was insatiable 
in her inquiries, and drew from the duenna the most ani- 
mated pictures of the scenes of her youthful days and native 
land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and slyly regarded 
herself in a mirror, when the theme turned upon the charms of 
the Spanish ladies ; while Zorahayda suppressed a struggling 
sigh at the mention of moonlight serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries, and 
every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, which were 
listened to with profound interest, though with frequent sighs, 
by her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman awoke at 
length to the mischief she might be doing. She had been 
accustomed to think of the princesses only as children ; but 
they had imperceptibly ripened beneath her eye, and now 
bloomed before her three lovely damsels of the marriageable 
age. It is time, thought the duenna, to give notice to the king. 

Mohamed the Left-handed was seated one morning on a 
divan in a cool hall of the Alhambra, when a slave arrived 
from the fortress of Salobreiia, with a message from the sage 
Kadiga, congratulating him on the anniversary of his daughters' 
birth-day. The slave at the same time presented a delicate 
little basket decorated with flowers, within which, on a couch 
of vine and fig-leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and a nectarine. 



THE EMBLEMATICAL OFFERING 229 

with their bloom and down and dewy sweetness upon them, 
and all in the early stage of tempting ripeness. The monarch 
was versed in the Oriental language of fruits and flowers, and 
rapidly liivined the meaning of this emblematical offering. 

" So," said he, " the critical period pointed out by the 
astrologers is arrived : my daughters are at a marriageable 
age. What is to be done? They are shut up fi-om the eyes 
of men ; they are under the eyes of the discreet Kadiga, — all 
very good, — but still they are not under my own eye, as was 
prescribed by the astrologers : I must gather them under my 
wing, and trust to no other guardianship." 

So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra should 
be prepared for their reception, and departed at the head of his 
guards for the fortress of Salobreiia, to conduct them home in 
person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had beheld 
his daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes at the 
wonderful change which that small space of time had made 
in their appearance. During the interval, they had passed 
that wondrous boundary line in female life which separates the 
crude, unformed, and thoughtless girl from the blooming, blush- 
ing meditative woman. It is like passing from the flat, 
bleak, uninteresting plains of La Mancha to the voluptuous 
valleys and swelling hills of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty demeanor 
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and de- 
cided step, and made a profound reverence to Mohamed, treat- 
ing him more as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was 
of the middle height, with an alluring look and swimming gait, 
and a sparkling beauty, heightened by the assistance of the 
toilette. She approached her father with a smile, kissed his 
hand, and saluted him with several stanzas from a popular 
iirabian poet, with which the monarch was delighted. Zora- 
hayda was shy and timid, smaller than her sisters, and with a 



230 THE ALHAMBRA 

oeauty of that tender beseeching kind which looks for fondness 
and protection. She was little fitted to command, like her 
elder sister, or to dazzle like the second, but was rather formed 
to creep to the bosoni of manly affection, to nestle within it, 
and be content. She drew near to her father, with a timid 
and almost faltering step, and would have taken his hand to 
kiss, but on looking up into his face, and seeing it beaming 
with a paternal smile, the tenderness of her nature broke forth, 
and she threw herself upon his neck. 

Mohamed the Left-handed surveyed his blooming daughters 
with mingled pride and perplexity, for while he exulted in their 
charms, he bethought himself of the prediction of the astrologers, 
"Three daughters! three daughters!" muttered he repeatedly 
to himself, " and all of a marriageable age ! Here's tempting 
Hesperian fruit, that requires a dragon watch ! " 

He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending heralds 
before him, commanding every one to keep out of the road by 
which he was to pass, and that all doors and windows should 
be closed at the approach of the princesses. This done, he set 
forth, escorted by a troop of black horsemen of hideous aspect, 
and clad in shining armor. 

The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on beauti- 
ful white palfreys, with velvet caparisons, embroidered with gold, 
and sweeping the ground ; the bits and stirrups were of gold, 
and the silken bridles adorned with pearls and precious stones. 
The palfreys were covered with little silver bells, which made 
the most musical tinkling as they ambled gently along. Woe 
to the unlucky wight, however, who lingered in the way when 
he heard the tinkling of these bells ! — the guards were ordered 
to cut him down without mercy. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it over- 
took, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of Moorish 
soldiers with a jconvoy of prisoners. It was too late for the 
soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw themselves oa 



JOURNEY TO GRANADA 231 

their faces on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like 
Among the prisoners were the three identical cavaliers whom 
the princesses had seen from the pavilion. They either did not 
understand, or were too haughty to obey the order, and re- 
mained standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it approached. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant defiance 
of his orders. Drawing his cimeter, and pressing forward, he was 
about to deal a left-handed blow that might have been fatal to 
at least one of the gazers, wlien the princesses crowded round 
him, and implored mercy for the prisoners ; even the timid 
Zorahayda forgot her shyness and became eloquent in their 
behalf Mohamed paused, with uplifted cimeter, when the 
captain of the guard threw himself at his feet. " Let not your 
highness," said he, "do a deed that may cause great scandal 
throughout the kingdom. These are three brave and noble 
Spanish knights, who have been taken in battle, fighting like 
lions ; they are of high birth, and may bring great ransoms." — 
"Enough ! " said the king. "I will spare their lives, but pun- 
ish their audacity — let them be taken to the Vermilion Towers, 
and put to hard labor." 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blunders. 
In the tumult and agitation of this blustering scene, the veils 
of the three princesses had been thrown back, and the radiance 
of their beauty revealed ; and in prolonging the parley, the 
king had given that beauty time to have its full efffect. In 
those days people fell in love much more suddenly than at 
present, as all ancient stories make manifest : it is not a matter 
of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three cavaliers were 
completely captured ; especially as gratitude was added to 
their admiration ; it is a little singular, however, though no 
less certain, that each of them was enraptured with a several 
beauty. As to the princesses, they were more than ever struck 
with the noble demeanor of the captives, and cherished in theit 
breasts all that they had heard of their valor and noble lineaga 



232 . THE ALHAMBRA 

The cavalcade resumed its march ; the three princesses rode 
pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and then stealing 
a glance behind in search of the Christian captives, and the latter 
were conducted to their allotted prison in the Vermilion Towers. 

The residence provided for the princesses was one of the 
most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower some- 
what apart from the main palace of the Alliambra, though con- 
nected with it by the wall which encircled the whole summit of 
the hill. On one side it looked into the interior of the fortress, 
and had, at its foot, a small garden filled with the rarest flowers. 
On the other side it overlooked a deep embowered ravine sepa- 
rating the grounds of the Alhambra from those of the Genera- 
life. The interior of the tower was divided into small fairy 
apartments, beautifully ornamented in the light Arabian style, 
surrounding a lofty hall, the vaulted roof of which rose almost 
to the summit of the tower. The walls and the ceilings of the 
hall were adorned with arabesque and fretwork, sparkling with 
gold and with brilliant pencilling. In the centre of the marble 
pavement was an alabaster fountain, set round with aromatic 
shrubs and flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that cooled 
the whole edifice and had a lulling sound. Eound the hail 
were suspended cages of gold and silver wire, containing singing- 
birds of the finest plumage or sweetest note. 

The princesses had been represented as always cheerful 
when in- the Castle of the Salobrena ; the king had expected 
to see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his surprise, 
however, they began to pine, and grow melancholy, and dissatis- 
fied with everything around them. The flowers yielded them 
no fragrance, the song of the nightingale disturbed their night's 
rest, and they were out of all patience with the alabaster 
fountain, with its eternal drop-drop and splash-splash, from 
morning till night and from night till morning. 

The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical disposi- 
tion, took this at first in high dudgeon ; but he reflected that 



FEMALE CAPRICES 233 

his daughters had arrived at an age when the female mind ex- 
pands and its desires augment. " They are no longer children," 
said he to himself, "they are women grown, and require suita- 
ble objects to interest them." He put in requisition, therefore, 
all the dressmakers, and the jewellers, and the artificers in gold 
and silver throughout the Zacatin of Granada, and the princesses 
were overwhelmed with robes of silk, and tissue, and brocade, 
and cashmere shawls, and necklaces of pearls and diamonds, and 
rings, and bracelets, and anklets, and all manner of precious 
things. 

All, however, was of no avail ; the princesses continued pale 
and languid in the midst of their finery, and looked like three 
blighted rose-buds, drooping from one stalk. The king was at 
his wits' end. He had in general a laudable confidence in his 
own judgment, and never took advice. " The whims and ca- 
prices of three marriageable damsels, however, are sufiicient," 
said he, " to puzzle the shrewdest head." So for once in his 
life he called in the aid of counsel.^ 

The person to whom he applied was the experienced duenna. 

"Kadiga," said the king, "I know you to be one of the most 
discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of the most 
trustworthy ; for these reasons I have always continued you 
about the persons of my daughters. Fathers cannot be too 
wary in whom they repose such confidence ; I now wish you to 
find out the secret malady that is preying upon the princesses, 
and to devise some means of restoring them to health and 
cheerfulness." 

Kadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact she knew more 
of the malady of the princesses than they themselves. Shut- 
ting herself up with them, however, she endeavored to insinuate 
herself into their confidence. 

" My dear children, what is the reason you are so dismal and 
downcast in so beautiful a place, where you have everything 
that heart can wish 1 " 



234 THE ALHAMBRA 

The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, and 
sighed. 

"What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you the 
wonderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the delight of 
Granada?'' 

" Odious ! " exclaimed the princess Zayda. " A horrid, scream- 
ing bird, that chatters words without ideas : one must be with- 
out brains to tolerate such a pest." 

"Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, to 
divert you with his antics ? " 

" A monkey ! faugh ! " cried Zorayda ; " the detestable mimic 
of man. I hate the nauseous animal." 

" What say you to the famous black singer Casem, from the 
royal harem, in Morocco? They say he has a voice as fine as 
a woman's." 

"I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves," said the 
delicate Zorahayda ; " besides, I have lost all relish for music." 

"Ah! my child, you would not say so," replied the old 
woman, slyly, " liad you heard the music I heard last evening, 
from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met on our journey. 
But bless me, children ! what is the matter that you blush so 
and are in such a flutter ? " 

"Nothing, nothing, good mother; pray proceed." 

" Well ; as I was passing by the Vermilion Towers last even- 
ing, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day's labor. 
One was playing on the guitar, so gracefully, and the others 
sang by turns ; and they did it in such style, that the very 
guards seemed like statues, or men enchanted. Allah forgive 
me ! I could not help being moved at hearing the songs of my 
native country. And then to see three such noble and hand- 
some youths in chains and slavery ! " 

Here the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain her tears. 

" Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a sight 
of these cavaliers," said Zayda. 



ELOQUENCE OF A GUITAR 235 

"I think," said Zorayda, "a little music would be quite 
reviving." 

The timid Zoraliayda said nothing, but threw her arms round 
the neck of Kadiga. 

" Mercy on me ! " exclaimed the discreet old woman, " what 
are you talking of, my children? Your father would be the 
death of us all if he heard of such a thing. To be sure, these 
cavaliers are evidently well-bred, and high-minded youths ; but 
what of that ? They are the enemies of our faith, and you must 
not even think of them but with abhorrence." 

There is an admirable intrepidity in the female will, particu- 
larly when about the marriageable age, which is not to be de- 
terred by dangers and prohibitions. The princesses hung round 
their old duenna, and coaxed, and entreated, and declared that 
a refusal would break their hearts. 

What could she do? She was certainly the most discreet 
old woman in the whole world, and one of the most faithful 
servants to the king ; but was she to see three beautiful prin- 
cesses break their hearts for the mere tinkling of a guitar? 
Besides, though she had been so long among the Moors, and 
changed her faith in imitation of her mistress, like a trusty 
follower, yet she was a Spaniard born, and had the lingerings 
of Christianity in her heart. So she set about to contrive how 
the wish of the princesses might be gratified. 

The Christian captives, confined in the Vermilion Towers, were 
under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad-shouldered renegado, 
called Hussein Baba, who was reputed to have a most itching 
palm. She went to him privately, and slipping a broad piece 
of gold into his hand, "Hussein Baba," said she; "my mis- 
tresses the three princesses, who are shut up in the tower, and 
in sad want of amusement, have heard of the musical talents 
of the three Spanish cavaliers, and are desirous of hearing a 
specimen of their skill. I am sure you are too kind-hearte4 to 
refuse them so innocent a gratification." 



236 THE ALHAMBRA 

" What ! and to have my head set grinning over the gate of 
my own tower ! for that would be the reward, if the king should 
discover it." 

" No danger of anything of the kind; the affair may be man- 
aged so that the whim of the princesses may be gratified, and 
their father be never the wiser. You know the deep ravine 
outside of the walls which passes immediately below the tower. 
Put the three Christians to work there, and at the intervals of 
their labor, let them play and sing, as if for their own recreation. 
In this way the princesses will be able to hear them from the 
windows of the tower, and you may be sure of their paying well 
for your compliance." 

As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she kindly 
pressed the rough hand of the renegade, and left within it 
another piece of gold. 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the thre'e 
cavaliers were put to work in the ravine. During the noontide 
heat, when their fellow-laborers were sleeping in the shade, and 
the guard nodding drowsily at his post, they seated themselves 
among the herbage at the foot of the tower, and sang a Spanish 
roundelay to the accompaniment of the guitar. 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices rose 
distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. The princesses 
listened from their balcony, they had been taught the Spanish 
language by their duenna, and were moved by the tenderness 
of the song. The discreet Kadiga, on the contrary, was terribly 
shocked. "Allah preserve us! " cried she, "they are singing a 
love-ditty, addressed* to yourselves. Did ever mortal hear of 
such audacity? I will run to the slave-master, and have them 
soundly bastinadoed." 

" What! bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for singing so 
charmingly ! " The three beautiful princesses were filled with 
horror at the idea. With all her virtuous indignation, the good 
old woman was of a placable nature, and easily appeased. Be- 



THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 237 

sides, the music seemed to have a beneficial effect upon her young 
mistresses. A rosy bloom liad already come to their cheeks, and 
their eyes began to sparkle. She made no further objection, 
therefore, to the amorous ditty of the cavaliers. 

When it was finished, the princesses remained silent for a 
time ; at length Zorayada took up a lute, and with a sweet, 
though faint and trembling voice warbled a little Arabian air, 
the burden of which was, " The rose is concealed among her 
leaves, but she listens with delight to the song of the nightingale." 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost daily in 
the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba became more and 
more indulgent, and daily more prone to sleep at his post. For 
some time a vague intercourse was kept up by popular songs 
and romances, which in some measure responded to each other, 
and breathed the feelings of the parties. By degrees the prin- 
cesses showed themselves at the balcony, when they could do 
so without being perceived by the guards. They conversed 
with the cavaliers also, by means of flowers, with the symbolical 
language of which they were mutually acquainted ; the difficul- 
ties of their intercourse added to its charms, and strengthened 
the passion they had so singularly conceived ; for love delights 
to struggle with difficulties, and thrives the most hardily on 
the scantiest soil. 

The change effected in the looks and spirits of the princesses 
by this secret intercourse, surprised and gratified the left-handed 
king; but no one was more elated than the discreet Kadiga, 
who considered it all owing to her able management. 

At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic cor- 
respondence ; for several days the cavaliers ceased to make their 
appearance in the glen. The princesses looked out from the 
tower in vain. In vain they stretched their swan-like necks 
from the balcony ; in vain they sang like captive nightingales in 
their cage : nothing was to be seen of their Christian lovers ; 
not a note responded from the groves. The discreet Kadiga 



238 THE ALHAMBRA 

sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and soon returned with a 
face full of trouble. " Ah, my children ! " cried she, " I saw 
what all this would come to, but you would have your way; 
you may now hang up your lutes on the willows. The Spanish 
cavaliers are ransomed by their families ; they are down in 
Granada, and preparing to return to their native country." 

The three beautiful princesses were in despair at the tidings. 
Zayda was indignant at the slight put upon them, in thus being 
deserted without a parting word. Zorayda wrung her hands 
and cried, and looked in the glass, and wiped away her tears, 
and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda leaned over the bal- 
cony and wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop among 
the flowers of the bank, where the faithless qgivaliers had so often 
been seated. 

The discreet Kadiga did all in her power to soothe their 
sorrow. "Take comfort, my children," said she, "this is 
nothing when you are used to it. This is the way of the 
world. Ah ! when you are as old as I am, you will know how 
to value these men. I'll warrant these cavaliers have their 
loves among the Spanish beauties of Cordova and Seville, and 
will soon be serenading under their balconies, and thinking 
no more of the Moorish beauties in the Alhambra. Take 
comfort, therefore, my children, and drive them from your 
hearts." 

The comforting words of the discreet Kadiga only redoubled 
the distress of the three princesses, and for two days they 
continued inconsolable. On the morning of the third the 
good old woman entered their apartment, all ruffling with 
indignation. 

" Who would have believed such insolence in mortal man ! " 
exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to express her- 
self; " but I am rightly served for having connived at this 
deception of your worthy father. Never talk more to me of 
your Spanish cavaliers." 



THE AFFLICTED DUENNA 239 

" Why, what has happened, good Kadiga ? " exclaimed the 
princesses in breathless anxiety. 

" What has happened ? — treason has happened ! or, what 
is almost as bad, treason has been proposed ; and to me, the 
most ftiithful of subjects, the trustiest of duennas ! Yes, my 
children, the Spanish cavaliers have dared to tamper with me, 
that I should persuade you to" fly with them to Cordova, and 
become their wives ! " 

Here the excellent old woman covered her face with her 
hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and indignation. 
The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red, pale and 
red, and trembled, and looked down, and cast shy looks at 
each other, but said nothing. Meantime the old woman sat. 
rocking backward and forward in violent agitation, and now 
and then breaking out into exclamations, — " That ever I should 
live to be so insulted ! — I, the most faithful of servants ! " 

At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit and 
always took the lead, approached her, and laying her hand upon 
her shoulder, "Well, mother," said she, " supposing we were 
willing to fiy with these Christian cavaliers — is such a thing 
possible ? " 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and look- 
ing up, "Possible," echoed she; "to be sure it is possible. 
Have not the cavaliers already bribed Hussein Baba, the rene- 
gado captain of the guard, and arranged the whole plan ? But, 
then, to think of deceiving your ftither ! your father, who has 
placed such confidence in me ! " Here the worthy woman gave 
way to a fresh burst of grief, and began again to rock backward 
and forward, and to wring her hands. 

"But our father has never placed any confidence iii us," said 
the eldest princess, " but has trusted to bolts and bars, and 
treated us as captives." 

" Why, that is true enough," replied the old woman, again 
pausing in her grief; " he has indeed treated you most unrea- 



240 THE ALHAMBRA 

sonably, keeping you shut up here, to waste your bloom in a 
moping old tower, like roses left to wither in a flower-jar. But, 
then, to fly from your native land ! " 

" And is not the land we fly to the native land of our mother, 
where we shall live in freedom 1 And shall we not each have 
a youthful husband in exchange for a severe old father ? " 

" Why, that again is all very 'true ; and your father, I must 
confess, is rather tyrannical ; but what then," relapsing into 
her grief, " would you leave me behind to bear the brunt of his 
vengeance ? " 

" By no means, my good Kadiga ; cannot you fly with us ? " 

" Very true, my child ; and, to tell the truth, when I talked 
the matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to take care 
of me, if I would accompany you in your flight ; but then, be- 
think you, my children, are you willing to renounce the faith 
of your father 1 " 

" The Christian faith was the original faith of our mother," 
said the eldest princess; "I am ready to embrace it, and so, I 
am sure, are my sisters." 

" Right again," exclaimed the old woman, brightening up ; 
" it was the original faith of your mother, and bitterly did she 
lament, on her death-bed, that she had renounced it. I prom- 
ised her then to take care of your souls, and I rejoice to see 
that they are now in a fair way to be saved. Yes, my children, 
I too was born a Christian, and have remained a Christian in 
my heart, and am resolved to return to the faith. I have 
talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a Spaniard by 
birth, and comes from a place not far from my native town. 
He is equally anxious to see his own country, and to be recon- 
ciled to the Church ; and the cavaliers have promised that, if 
we are disposed to become man and wife, on returning to our 
native land, they will provide for us handsomely." 

In a word it appeared that this extremely discreet and provi- 
dent old woman had consulted with the cavaliers and the rene- 



THE ARRANGEMENT 241 

gado, and had concerted the whole plan of escape. The eldest 
princess immediately assented to it ; and her example, as usual, 
determined the conduct of her sisters. It is true the youngest 
hesitated, for she was gentle and timid of soul, and there was a 
struggle in her bosom between filial feeling and youthful pas- 
sion : the latter, however, as usual, gained the victory, and with 
silent tears and stifled sighs she prepared herself for flight. 

The rugged hill on which the Alhambra is built was, in old 
times, perforated with subterranean passages, cut through the 
rock, and leading from the fortress to various parts of the city, 
and to distant sally-ports on the banks of the Darro and the 
Xenil. They had been constructed at different times by the 
Moorish kings, as means of escape from sudden insurrections, 
or of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of 
them are now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked 
with rubbish, and partly walled up, — monuments of the jealous 
precautions and warlike stratagems of the Moorish government. 
By one of these passages Hussein Baba had undertaken to con- 
duct the princesses to a sally-port beyond the walls of the city, 
where the cavaliers were to be ready, with fleet steeds, to bear 
the whole party over the borders. 

The appointed night arrived ; the tower of the princesses 
had been locked up as usual, and the Alhambra was buried in 
deep sleep. Towards midnight the discreet Kadiga listened 
from the balcony of a window that looked into the garden. 
Hussein Baba, the renegado, was already below, and gave the 
appointed signal. The duenna fastened the end of a ladder of 
ropes to the balcony, lowered it into the garden and descended. 
The two eldest princesses followed her wdth beating hearts ; 
but when it came to the turn of the youngest princess, Zora- 
hayda, she hesitated and trembled. Several times she ventured 
a delicate little foot upon the laddei', and as often drew it back, 
while her poor little heart fluttered more and more the longer 
she delayed. She cast a wistful look back into the silken 



242 THE ALHAMBRA 

chamber; she had lived in it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage , 
but within it she was secure ; who could tell what dangers 
might beset her, should she flutter forth into the wide world ! 
Now she bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and her 
little foot was instantly upon the ladder ; and anon she thought 
of her father, and shrank back. But fruitless is the attempt 
to describe the conflict in the bosom of one so young and ten- 
der and loving, but so timid and so ignorant of the world. 

In vain her sisters implored, the duenna scolded, and the 
renegado blasphemed beneath the balcony : the gentle little 
Moorish maid stood doubting and wavering on the verge of 
elopement ; tempted by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified 
at its perils. 

Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A distant 
tramp was heard. " The patrols are walking their rounds," 
cried the renegado ; " if we linger, we perish. Princess, de- 
scend instantly, or we leave you." 

Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation ; then 
loosening the ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution she 
flung it from the balcony. 

"It is decided ! " cried she ; " flight is now out of my 
power ! Allah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters ! " 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts of 
leaving her behind, and would fain have lingered, but the patrol 
was advancing ; the renegado was furious, and they were hur- 
ried away to the subterraneous passage. They groped their 
way through a fearful labyrinth, cut through the heart of the 
mountain, and succeeded in reaching, undiscovered, an iron gate 
that opened outside of the walls. The Spanish cavaliers were 
waiting to receive them, disguised as Moorish soldiers of the 
guard, commanded by the renegado. 

The lover of Zorahayda was frantic when he learned that she 
had refused to leave the tower ; but there was no time to waste 
in lamentations. The two princesses were placed behind their 



THE FLIGHT 243 

overs, the discreet Kadiga mounted behind the renegado 
and they all set off at a round pace in the direction of 
the Pass of Lope, which leads through the mountains towards- 
Cordova. 

They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of 
drums and trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra. 

" Our flight is discovered ! " said the renegado. 

" We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and we may dis- 
tance all pursuit," replied the cavaliers. 

They put spurs to their horses, and scoured across the Vega. 
They attained the foot of the mountain of Elvira, which stretches 
like a promontory into the plain. The renegado paused and 
listened. "As yet," said he, "there is no one on our traces, 
we shall make good our escape to the mountains." While he 
spoke, a light blaze sprang up on the top of the watch-tower 
of the Alhambra. 

" Confusion ! " cried the renegado, " that bale fire will put 
all the guards of the passes on the alert. Away ! away ! Spur 
like mad, — there is no time to be lost." 

Away they dashed — the clattering of their horses' hoofs 
echoed from rock to rock, as they swept along the road that 
skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on, the 
bale fire of the Alhambra was answered in every direction ; light 
after light blazed on the Atalayas, or watch-towers of the 
mountains. 

" Forward ! forward ! " cried the renegado, with many an 
oath, "to the bridge, — to the bridge, before the alarm has 
reached there ! " 

They doubled the promontory of the mountains, and arrived 
in sight of the famous Bridge of Pinos that crosses a rushing 
stream often dyed with Christian and Moslem blood. To their 
confusion, the tower on the bridge blazed with lights and glittered 
with armed men. The renegado pulled up his steed, rose in 
his stirrups, and looked about him for a moment ; then beckon- 



244 THE ALHAMBRA 

ing to the cavaliers, he struck off from the road, skirted the 
river for some distance, and dashed into its waters. The cava- 
liers called upon the princesses to cling to them, and did the 
same. They were borne for some distance down the rapid cur- 
rent, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful princesses 
clung to their Christian knights, and never uttered a complaint. 
The cavaliers attained the opposite bank in safety, and were 
conducted by the renegade, by rude and unfrequented paths 
and wild barrancos, through the heart of the mountains, so as 
to avoid all the regular passes. In a word, they succeeded in 
reaching the ancient city of Cordova, where their restoration 
to their country and friends was celebrated with great rejoic- 
ings, for they were of the noblest fiimilies. The beautiful prin- 
cesses were forthwith received into the bosom of the Church, 
and after being in all due form made regular Christians, were 
rendered happy wives. 

In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses across 
the river, and up the mountains, we forgot to mention the fate 
of the discreet Kadiga. She had clung like a cat to Hussein 
Baba in the scamper across the Vega, screaming at every bound, 
and drawing many an oath from the whiskered renegade ; but 
when he prepared to plunge his steed into the river, her ter- 
ror knew no bounds. "Grasp me not so tightly," cried Hus- 
sein Baba; " hold on by my belt and fear nothing." She held 
firmly with both hands by the leathern belt that girded the 
broad-backed renegade ; but when he halted with the cavaliers 
to take breath on the mountain summit, the duenna was no longer 
to be seen. 

" What has become of Kadiga 1 " cried the princesses in 
alarm. 

" Allah alone knows ! " replied the renegade ; " my belt 
came loose when in the midst of the river, and Kadiga was 
swept with it down the stream. The will of Allah be done ! 
but it was an embroidered belt, and of great price." 



THE FATE OF KADIGA 245 

There was no time to waste in idle regrets; yet bitterly did 
the princesses bewail the loss of their discreet counsellor. That 
excellent old woman, however, did not lose more than half of 
her nine lives in the water : a fisherman, who was drawing his 
nets some distance down the stream, brought her to land, 
and was not a little astonished at his miraculous draught. 
What furthur became of the discreet Kadiga, the legend, 
does not mention ; certain it is that she evinced her discre- 
tion in never venturing within the reach of Mohamed the 
Left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious 
monarch when he discovered the escape of his daughters, and 
the deceit practiced upon him by the most faithful of servants. 
It was the only instance in which he had called in the aid of 
counsel, and he was never afterwards known to be guilty of 
a similar weakness. He took good care, however, to guard his 
remaining daughter, who had no disposition to elope ; it is 
thought, indeed, that she secretly repented having remained be- 
hind : now and then she was seen leaning on the battlements of 
the tower, and looking mournfully towards the mountains in 
the direction of Cordova, and sometimes the notes of her lute 
were heard accompanying plaintive ditties, in which she was 
said to lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and to be- 
wail her solitary life. She died young, and, according to popu- 
lar rumor, was buried in a vault beneath the tower, and her 
untimely fate has given rise to more than one traditionary 
fable. 

The following legend, which seems in some measure to spring 
out of the foregoing story, is too closely connected with high his- 
toric names to be entirely doubted. The Count's daughter, and 
some of her young companions, to whom it was read in one of 
the evening tertullias, thought certain parts of it had much ap- 
pearance of reality ; and Dolores, who was much more versed 



246 THE ALHAMBKA 

than they in the improbable truths of the Alhambra, believed 
every word of it. 

1 The reader will recognize the sovereign connected with the for- 
tunes of the Abencerrages. His story appears to be a little fiction- 
ized in the legend. 



LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by the Moors, 
that delightful city was a frequent and favorite residence of the 
Spanish sovereigns, until they were frightened away by succes- 
sive shocks of earthquakes, which toppled down various houses, 
and made the old Moslem towers rock to their foundation. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during which Granada 
was rarely honored by a royal guest. The palaces of the nobil- 
ity remained silent and shut up ; and the Alhambra, like a 
slighted beauty, sat in mournful desolation among her neglected 
gardens. The tower of the Infantas, once the residence of the 
three beautiful Moorish princesses, partook of the general deso- 
lation ; the spider spun her web athwart the gilded vault, and 
bats and owls nestled in those chambers that had been graced 
by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda. The neg- 
lect of this tower may have been partly owing to some super- 
stitious notions of the neighbors. It was rumored that the 
spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who had perished in that 
tower, was often seen by moonlight seated beside the fountain 
in the hall, or moaning about the battlements, and that the 
notes of her silver lute would be heard at midnight by way- 
farers passing along the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more welcomed by 
the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip V. was 
the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish sceptre. All the 
world knows that he married, in second nuptials, Elizabetta or 



THE TRUANT FALCON 247 

Isabella (for they are the same), the beautiful princess of Parma ; 
and all the world knows that by this chain of contingencies a 
French prince and an Italian princess were seated together on 
the Spanish throne. For a visit of this illustrious pair, the 
Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with all possible expedi- 
tion. The arrival of the court changed the whole aspect of the 
lately deserted palace. The clangor of drum and trumpet, the 
tramp of steed about the avenues and outer court, the glitter 
of arms and display of banners about barbican and 'battlement, 
recalled the ancient and warlike glories of the fortress. A 
softer spirit, however, reigned within the royal palace. There 
was the rustling of robes and the cautious tread and murmur- 
ing voice of reverential courtiers about the ante-chambers ; a 
loitering of pages and maids of honor about the gardens, and 
the sound of music stealing from open casements. 

Among those who attended in the train of the monarchs was 
a favorite page of the queen, named Ruyz de Alarcon. To say 
that he was a favorite page of the queen was at once to speak 
his eulogium, for every one in the suite of the stately Elizabetta 
was chosen for grace, and beauty, and accomplishments. He 
was just turned of eighteen, light and lithe of form, and grace- 
ful as a young Antinous. To the queen he was all deference 
and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish stripling, pettei and 
spoiled by the ladies about the court, and experienced : n the 
ways of women far beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling aboit the 
groves of the Generalife, which overlook the grounds of the 
Alhambra. He had taken with him for his amusement i favor- 
ite ger-falcon of the queen. In the course of his ramVles, see- 
ing a bird rising from a thicket, he unhooded the hawk and let 
him fly. The falcon towered high in the air, made a swoop at 
his quarry, but missing it, soared away, regardless of the calls 
of the page. The latter followed the truant bird with his eye, 
in its capricious flight, until he saw it alight upon ^.he battle- 



248 THE ALHAMBRA 

ments of a remote and lonely tower, in the outer wall of the 
Alhambra, built on the edge of a ravine that separated the 
royal fortress from the grounds of the Generalife. It was in 
fact the "Tower of the Princesses." 

The page descended into the ravine and approached the 
tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its lofty 
height rendered any attempt to scale it fruitless. Seeking one 
of the gates of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide circuit to 
that side of the tower facing within the walls. 

A small garden, enclosed by a trellis-work of reeds overhung 
with myrtle, lay before the tower. Opening a wicket, the page 
passed between beds of flowers and thickets of roses to the 
door. It was closed and bolted. A crevice in the door gave 
him a peep into the interior. There was a small Moorish hall 
with fretted walls, light marble columns, and an alabaster 
fountain surrounded with flowers. In the centre hung a gilt 
cage containing a singing-bird ; beneath it, on a chair, lay a 
tortoise-shell cat among reels of silk and other articles of female 
labor, and a guitar decorated with ribbons leaned against the 
fountain. 

Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with tliese traces of female 
taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had supposed, deserted 
tower. They reminded him of the tales of enchanted halls cur- 
rent in the Alhambra; and the tortoise-shell cat might be some 
spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door. A beautiful face peeped 
out from a little window above, but was instantly withdrawn. 
He w^aited, expecting that the door would be opened, but he 
waited in vain ; no footstep was to be heard within — all was 
silent. Had his senses deceived him, or was this beautiful ap- 
parition the fairy of the tower 1 He knocked again, and more 
loudly. After a little while the beaming face once more peeped 
forth ; it was that of a blooming damsel of fifteen. 

The page immediately doff'ed his plumed bonnet, and en- 



THE CAPITULATION 249" 

treated in the most courteous accents to be permitted to ascend 
the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

" I dare not open the door, Senor," replied the little damsel, 
blushing, "my aunt has forbidden it." 

" I do beseech you, fair maid — it is the favorite falcon of 
the queen : I dare not return to the palace without it." 

" Are you then one of the cavaliers of the court 1 " 

" I am, fair maid ; but I shall lose the queen's favor and my 
place, if I lose this hawk." 

" Santa Maria ! It is against you cavaliers of the court my 
aunt has charged me especially to bar the door." 

" Against wicked cavaliers doubtless, but I am none of these, 
but a simple harmless page, who will be ruined and undone 
if you deny me this small request." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the distress 
of the page. It was a thousand pities he should be ruined for 
the want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, he could not be one 
of those dangerous beings whom her aunt had described as a 
species of cannibal, ever on the prowl to make prey of thought- 
less damsels ; he was gentle and modest, and stood so entreat- 
ingly with cap in hand, and looked so charming. 

The sly page saw that the garrison began to waver, and 
redoubled his entreaties in such moving terms that it was not 
in the nature of mortal maiden to deny him ; so the blushing 
little warden of the tower descended, and opened the door with 
a trembling hand, and if the page had been charmed by a mere 
glimpse of her countenance from the window, he was ravished 
by the full-length portrait now revealed to him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquifia set off the round 
but delicate symmetry of her form, which was as yet scarce 
A-erging into womanhood. Her glossy hair was parted on her 
forehead with scrupulous exactness, and decorated with a fresh- 
plucked rose, according to the universal custom of the country. 
It is true her complexion was tinged by the ardor of a southeru 



250 THE ALHAMBRA 

sun, but it served to give richness to the mantling bloom oi 
her cheek, and to heighten the lustre of her melting eyes. 

Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, for it 
became him not to tarry ; he merely murmured his acknowl- 
edgments, and then bounded lightly up the spiral staircase in 
quest of his falcon. 

He soon returned with the truant bird upon his fist. The 
damsel, in the meantime, had seated herself by the fountain in 
the hall, and was winding silk ; but in her agitation she let 
fall the reel upon the pavement. The page sprang and picked 
it up, then dropping gracefully on one knee, presented it to her: 
but, seizing the hand extended to receive it, imprinted on it a 
kiss more fervent and devout than he had ever imprinted on 
the fair hand of his sovereign. 

" Ave Maria, Seiior ! " exclaimed the damsel, blushing still 
deeper with confusion and surprise, for never before had she 
received such a salutation. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring her it 
was the way at court of expressing the most profound homage 
.and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified, but her 
-agitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat blushing 
deeper and deeper, with her eyes cast down upon her work, 
entangling the silk which she attempted to wind. 

The cunning page saw the confusion in the opposite camp, 
and would fain have profited by it, but the fine speeches he 
would have uttered died upon his lips; his attempts at gal- 
lantry were awkward and ineffectual ; and to his surprise, the 
adroit page, who had figured with such grace and eff'rontery 
among the most knowing and experienced ladies of the court, 
found himself awed and abashed in the presence of a simple 
damsel of fifteen. 

In fact, the artless maiden, in her own modesty and innocence, 
had guardians more effectual than the bolts and bars prescribed 



THE EMBARRASSMENT 251 

by her vigilant aunt. Still, where is the female bosom proof 
against the first whisperings of love 1 The little damsel, with 
all her artlessness, instinctively comprehended all that the 
faltering tongue of the page failed to express, and her heart 
was fluttered at beholding, for the first time, a lover at her feet 
— and such a lover ! 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short-lived, 
and he was recovering his usual ease and confidence, when a 
shrill voice was heard at a distance. 

" My aunt is returning from mass ! " cried the damsel in 
afiright ; " I pray you, Seiior, depart." 

" Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a 
remembrance." 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks, " Take 
it," cried she, agitated and blushing, "but pray begone." 

The page took the rose, and at the same time covered with 
kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then, placing the flower in 
his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist he bounded off' 
through the garden, bearing away with him the heart of the 
gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she remarked 
the agitation of her niece, and an air of confusion in the hall ; 
but a word of explanation sufficed. "A ger-falcon had pur- 
sued his prey into the hall." 

" Mercy on us ! to think of a falcon flying into the tower. 
Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk ? Why, the very bird 
in the cage is not safe ! " 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of ancient 
spinsters. She had a becoming terror and distrust of what she 
donominated "the opposite sex," which had gradually increased 
through a long life of celibacy. Not that the good lady had 
ever suffered from their wiles, nature having set up a safe- 
guard in her face that forbade all trespass upon her prem- 
ises : but ladies who have least cause to fear for themselves 



252 THE ALHAMBRa 

are most ready to keep a watch over their more tempting 
neighbors. 

The niece was the orphan of an officer who had fallen in the 
wars. She had been educated in a convent, and had recently 
been transferred from her sacred asylum to the immediate 
guardianship of her aunt, under whose overshadowing care she 
vegetated in obscurity, like an opening rose blooming beneath a 
brier. Nor indeed is this comparison entirely accidental ; for, 
to tell the truth, her fresh and dawning beauty had caught 
the public eye, even in her seclusion, and, with that poetical 
turn common to the people of Andalusia, the peasantry of the 
neighborhood had given her the appellation of "the Rose of 
the Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over her 
tempting little niece as long as the court continued at Granada, 
and flattered herself that her vigilance had been successful. It 
is true the good lady was now and then discomposed by the 
tinkling of guitars and chanting of love-ditties from the moon- 
lit groves beneath the tower ; but she would exhort her niece 
to shut her ears against such idle minstrelsy, assuring her 
that it was one of the arts of the opposite sex, by which 
simple maids were often lured to their undoing. Alas ! what 
chance with a simple maid has a dry lecture against a moon- 
light serenade 1 

At length king Philip cut short his sojourn at Granada, and 
suddenly departed with all his train. The vigilant Fredegonda 
watched the royal pageant as it issued forth from the Gate of 
Justice, and descended the great avenue leading to the city. 
When the last banner disappeared from her sight, slie returned 
exulting to her tower, for all her cares were over. To her 
surprise, a light Arabian steed pawed the ground at the wicket- 
gate of the garden ; — to her horror she saw through the thickets 
of roses a youth in gayly embroidered dress, at the feet of her 
niece. At the sound of her footsteps he gave a tender adieu. 



THE FORSAKEN MAID 253 

oounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and myrtles, sprang 
upon his horse and was out of sight in an instant. 

The teniler Jacinta, in the agony of her grief, lost all thought 
of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself into her arms, she 
broke forth into sobs and tears. 

"Ay de mi!" cried she; "he's gone! — he's gone! — he's 
gone ! and I shall never see him more ! " 

" Gone ! — who is gone ? — what youth is that I saw at your 
feet?" 

" A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me farewell." 

" A queen's page, child ! " echoed the vigilant Fredegonda, 
faintly, " and when did you become acquainted with the queen's 
page ? " 

" The morning that the ger-falcon came into the tower. It 
was the queen's ger-falcon, and he came in pursuit of it." 

"Ah silly, silly girl ! know that there are no ger-falcons half 
so dangerous as these young prankling pages, and it is precisely 
such simple birds as thee that they pounce upon." 

The aunt was at first indignant at learning that in despite of 
her boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse had been carried on 
by the youthful lovers, almost beneath her eye ; but when she 
found that her simple-hearted niece, though thus exposed, with- 
out the protection of bolt or bar, to all the machinations of the 
opposite sex, had come forth unsinged from the fiery ordeal, she 
consoled herself with the persuasion that it was owing to the 
chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, as it were, 
steeped her to the very lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, the 
niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of the page. 
But what is the love of restless, roving man? A vagrant 
stream that dallies for a time with each flower upon its bank, 
then passes on, and leaves them all in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was heard 
of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine yielded up its 



254 THE ALHAMBRA 

fruit, the autamnal rains descended in torrents from the moun- 
tains ; the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy mantle, 
and wintry blasts howled through the halls of the Alhambra — 
still he came not. The winter past away. Again the genial 
spring burst forth with song and blossom and balmy zephyr ; 
the snows melted from the mountains, until none remained 
but on the lofty summit of Nevada, glistening through the 
sultry summer air. Still nothing was heard of the forgetful 
page. 

In the meantime the poor little Jacinta grew pale and 
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements were 
abandoned, her silk lay entangled, her guitar unstrung, her 
flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird unheeded, and her 
eyes, once so bright, were dimmed with secret weeping. If any 
solitude could be devised to foster the passion of a love-lorn 
damsel it would be such a place as the Alhambra, where every- 
thing seems disposed to produce tender and remantic reveries. 
It is a very paradise for lovers : how hard then to be alone in 
such a paradise — and not merely alone, but forsaken ! 

" Alas, silly child ! " would the staid and immaculate Frede- 
gonda say, when she found her niece in one of her desponding 
moods — "did I not warn thee against the wiles and deceptions 
of these men 1 What couldst thou expect, too, from one of a 
haughty and aspiring family — thou an orphan, the descendant 
of a fallen and impoverished line? Be assured, if the youth 
were true, his father, who is one of the proudest nobles about 
the court, would prohibit his union with one so humble and 
portionless as thou. Pluck up thy resolution, therefore, and 
drive these idle notions from thy mind." 

The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only served to 
increase the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to indulge 
it in private. At a late hour one midsummer night, after her 
aunt had retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of the 
tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. It was here that 



THE SPIRIT OF THE FOUNTAIN 255 

the faithless page had first knelt and kissed her hand ; it was 
here that he had often vowed eternal fidelity. The poor little 
damseFs heart was overladen with sad and tender recollections, 
her tears, began to flow, and slowly fell drop by drop into 
the fountain. By degrees the crystal water became agitated, 
and — bubble — bubble — bubble — boiled up and was tossed 
about, until a female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly 
rose to view. 

Jacinta was so frightened that she fled from the hall, and 
did not venture to return. The next morning she related what 
she had seen to her aunt, but the good lady treated it as a 
fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed she had fallen asleep 
and dreamt beside the fountain. "Thou hast been thinking 
of the story of the three Moorish princesses that once inhabited 
this tower," continued she, "and it has entered into thy dreams." 

" What story, aunt 1 I know nothing of it." 

" Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, Zayda, 
Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in this tower by 
the king their father, and agreed to fly with three Christian 
cavaliers. The two first accomplished their escape, but the 
third failed in her resolution, and, it is said, died in this 
tower." 

" I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, " and to 
have wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda." 

" Thou mayest well weep over her fate," continued the aunt, 
" for the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. He long be- 
moaned his Moorish love ; but time cured him of his grief, and 
he married a Spanish lady, from whom thou art descended." 

Jacinta ruminated upon these words. " That what I have 
seen is no fantasy of the brain," said she to herself, "I am 
confident. If indeed it be the spirit of the gentle Zorahayda, 
which I have heard lingers about this tower, of what should I 
be afraid 1 I'll watch by the fountain to-night — perhaps the 
visit will be repeated." 



256 THE ALHAMBRA 

Towards midnight, when everything was quiet, she again took 
her seat in the hall. As the bell in the distant watch-tower of 
the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the fountain was again 
agitated ; and bubble — bubble — bubble — it tossed about the 
waters until the Moorish female again rose to view. She was 
young and beautiful ; her dress was rich with jewels, and in 
her hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and was 
faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice of the 
apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale, melancholy 
countenance. 

" Daughter of mortality," said she, " what aileth thee ? Why 
do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and plaints dis- 
turb the quiet watches of the night ? " 

" I weep because of the faithlessness of man, and I bemoan 
my solitary and forsaken state." 

" Take comfort ; thy sorrows may yet have an end. Thou 
beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was unhappy in 
her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, won my heart, and 
would have borne me to his native land and to the bosom of 
his church. I was a convert in my heart, but I lacked courage 
equal to my faith, and lingered till too late. For this the evil 
genii are permitted to have power over me, and I remain en- 
chanted in this tower until some pure Christian will deign to 
break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task ? " 

" I will," replied the damsel, trembling. 

" Come hither then, and fear not ; dip thy hand in the foun- 
tain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me after the man- 
ner of thy faith ; so shall the enchantment be dispelled, and 
my troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her hand 
in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled it 
over the pale face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped her 
silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upon 



THE SILVER LUTE 257 

her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as 
if a shower of dewdrops had fallen into the fountam. 

Jacinta retired from the hall filled with awe and wonder. 
She scarcely closed her eyes that night ; but when she awoke 
at daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared to 
her like a distempered dream. On descending into the hall, 
however, the truth of the vision was established, for beside the 
fountain she beheld the silver lute glittering in the mornmg 

sunshine. . , r n u 

She hastened to her aunt, to relate all that had befallen her, 
and called her to behold the lute as a testimonial of the reahty 
of her story. If the good lady had any lingering doubts, they 
were removed when Jacinta touched the instrument, for she 
drew forth such ravishing tones as to thaw even the frigid 
bosom of the immaculate Fredegonda, that region of eternal 
winter, into a genial flow. Nothing but supernatural melody 
could have produced such an effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became every day more 
and more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the tower was 
detained, and, as it were, spell-bound in breathless ecstasy. 
The very birds gathered in the neighboring trees, and hustnng 
their own strains, listened in charmed silence. 

Rumor soon spread the news abro^ad. The inhabitants ot 
Granada thronged to the Alhambra to catch a few ;iotes of the 
transcendent music that floated about the tower of Las Intantas. 
The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn lorth irom 
her retreat. The rich and powerful of the land contended who 
should entertain and do honor to her; or rather, who should 
secure the charms of her lute to draw fashionable throngs to 
their saloons. Wherever she went her vigilant aunt kept a 
drao-on watch at her elbow, awing the throngs of impassioned 
admirers who hung in raptures on her strams. The report ot 
her wonderful powers spread from city to city. Malaga, beville, 
Cordova, all became successively mad on the theme ; nothing 



258 THE ALHAMBRA 

was talked of throughout Andalusia but the beautiful minstrel 
of the Alhambra. How could it be otherwise among a people 
so musical and gallant as the Andalusians, when the lute was 
magical in its powers, and the minstrel inspired by love ! 

While all Andalusia was thus music mad, a different mood 
prevailed at the court of Spain. Philip V., as is Avell known, 
was a miserable hypochondriac, and subject to all kinds of 
fancies. Sometimes he would keep his bed for weeks together, 
groaning under ir^aginary complaints. At other times he would 
insist upon abdicating his throne, to the great annoyance of his 
royal spouse, who had a strong relish for the splendors of a court 
and the glories of a crown, and guided the sceptre of her imbecile 
lord with an expert and steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious in dispelling the royal 
megrims as the power of music ; the queen took care, therefore, 
to have the best performers, both vocal and instrumental, at 
hand, and retained the famous Italian singer Farinelli about the 
court as a kind of royal physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come over 
the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon that surpassed 
all former vagaries. After a long spell of imaginary illness, 
which set all the strains of Farinelli and the consultations of a 
whole orchestra of court fiddlers at defiance, the monarch fairly, 
in idea, gave up the ghost, and considered himself absolutely 
dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even convenient 
both to his queen and courtiers, had he been content to remain 
in the quietude befitting a dead man ; but to their annoyance 
he insisted upon having the funeral ceremonies performed over 
him, and, to their inexpressible perplexity, began to grow impa- 
tient, and to revile bitterly at them for negligence and disre- 
spect, in leaving him unburied. What was to be done? To 
disobey the king's positive commands was monstrous in the 
eyes of the obsequious courtiers of a punctilious court — 



ROYAL MEGRIMS 259 

but to obey him and bury him alive would be downright 

"^^^In the midst of this fearful dilemma a rumor reached the 
court of the female minstrel who was turning the brams of all 
Andalusia The queen dispatched missions in all haste to sum- 
mon her to St. Ildefonso, where the court at that time resided. 
Within a few days, as the queen with her maids of honor 
was walking in those stately gardens, intended with their 
avenues and terraces and fountains, to echpse the glories of 
Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted mto her 
presence The imperial Elizabetta gazed with surprise at the 
youthful and unpretending appearance of the little being that 
had set the world madding. She was in her picturesque Anda- 
lusian dress, her silver lute in hand, and stood with modest and 
downcast eyes, but with a simplicity and freshness of beauty 
that still bespoke her "the Rose of the Alhambra. 

As usual she was accompanied by the ever-vigilant Frede- 
gonda, who gave the whole history of her parentage and descent 
fo th^ inquiring queen. If the stately Ehzabetta had been 
interested by the appearance of Jacinta, she was ^til more 
pleased when she learnt that she was of a meritonous thoiigl 
impoverished line, and that her father had bravely fallen m the 
service of the crown. " If thy powers equal thy renown, said 
she "and thou canst cast forth this evil spirit that possesses 
thy sovereign, thy fortunes shall henceforth be my care, and 
honors and wealth attend thee." _^, , , , ^, . ^„^^ 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at once 
to the apartment of the moody monarch. 

Jacinta followed with downcast eyes through files of guards 
and crowds of courtiers. They arrived at length at a great 
chamber hung with black. The windows were closed to exclude 
the lio-ht of day : a number of yellow wax tapers m silver sconces 
diffused a lugubrious light, and dimly revealed the figures of 
mutes in mourning dresses, and courtiers who glided about with 



260 THE ALHAMBRA 

noiseless step and woe-begone visage. In the midst of a funeral 
bed or bier, his hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his 
nose just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch. 

The queen entered the chamber in silence, and pointing to a 
footstool in an obscure corner, beckoned to Jacinta to sit down 
and commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but 
gathering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drew forth 
such soft aerial harmony, that all present could scarce believe it 
mortal. As to the monarch, who had already considered him- 
self in the world of spirits, he set it down for some angelic 
melody or the music of the spheres. By degrees the theme 
was varied, and the voice of the minstrel accompanied the 
instrument. She poured forth one of the legendary ballads 
treating of the ancient glories of the Alliambra and the achieve- 
ments of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into the theme, 
for with the recollections of the Alhambra was associated the 
story of her love. The funeral-chamber resounded with the 
animating strain. It entered into the gloomy heart of the mon- 
arch. He raised his head and gazed around : he sat up on his 
couch, his eye began to kindle — at length, leaping upon the 
floor, he called for sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted lute, was 
complete ; the demon of melancholy was cast forth ; and, as it 
were, a dead man brought to life. The windows of the apart- 
ment were thrown open ; the glorious effulgence of Spanish sun- 
shine burst into the late lugubrious chamber; all eyes sought 
the lovely enchantress, but the lute had fallen from her hand, she 
had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was clasped 
to the bosom of Ruyz de Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were celebrated soon after- 
wards with great splendor, and the rose of the Alhambra became 
the ornament and delight of the court. "But hold — not so 
fast" — I hear the reader exclaim ; "this is jumping to the 



THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC 261 

end of a story at a furious rate ! First let us know how Ruyz 
de Alarcon managed to account to Jacinta for his long neglect." 
Nothing more easy; the venerable, time-honored excuse, the 
opposition to his wishes by a proud', pragmatical old father : 
besides, young people who really like one another soon come to 
an amicable understanding, and bury all past grievances when 
once they meet. 

But how was the proud, pragmatical old father reconciled to 
the match 1 

Oh ! as to that, his scruples were easily overcome by a word 
or two from the queen ; especially as dignities and rewards 
were showered upon the blooming favorite of royalty. Besides, 
tlie lute of Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, and 
could control the most stubborn head and hardest breast. 

And what came of the enchanted lute ? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly proves 
the truth of the whole story. That lute remained for some 
time in the family, but was purloined and carried off, as was 
supposed, by the great singer Farinelli, in pure jealousy. At 
his deatli it passed into other hands in Italy, who were ignorant 
of its mystic powers, and melting down the silver, transferred 
the strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still retain 
something of their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, 
but let it go no further : that fiddle is now bewitching the 
whole world, — it is the fiddle of Paganini ! 



THE VETERAN 

Among the curious acquaintances I made in my rambles 
about the fortress, was a brave and battered old colonel of 
Invalids, who was nestled like a hawk in one of the Moorish 
towers. His history, which he was fond of telling, was a tissue 
of those adventures, mishaps, and vicissitudes that render the 



262 THE ALHAMBRA 

life of almost every Spaniard of note as varied and whimsical 
as the pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve years of age, and reckoned 
among the most signal and fortunate events of his life, his hav- 
ing seen General Washington. Since then he had taken a part 
in all the wars of his country ; he could speak experimentally 
of most of the prisons and dungeons of the Peninsula ; had 
been lamed of one leg, crippled in his hands, and so cut up and 
carbonadoed that he was a kind of walking monument of the 
troubles of Spain, on which there was a scar for every battle 
and broil, as every year of captivity was notched upon the tree 
of Robinson Crusoe. The greatest misfortune of the brave old 
cavalier, however, appeared to have been his having commanded 
at Malaga during a time of peril and confusion, and been made 
a general by the inhabitants, to protect them from the invasion 
of the French. This liad entailed upon him a number of just 
claims upon government, that I feared would employ him until 
his dying day in writing and printing petitions and memorials, 
to the great disquiet of his mind, exhaustion of his purse, and 
penance of his friends ; not one of whom could visit him \n\\i- 
out having to listen to a mortal document of half an hour in 
length, and to carry away half a dozen pamphlets in his pocket. 
This, however, is the case throughout Spain ; everywhere you 
meet with some worthy wight brooding in a corner, and nursing 
up some pet grievance and cherished wrong. Besides, a Span- 
iard who has a lawsuit, or a claim upon government, may be 
considered as furnished with employment for the remainder of 
his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part of the 
Torre del Vino, or Wine Tower. His room was small but snug, 
and commanded a beautiful view of the Vega. It was arranged 
with a soldier's precision. Three muskets and a bra6e of pistols, 
all bright and shining, were suspended against the wall, with a 
sabre and a cane hanging side by side, and above them two 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY 263 

cocked hats, one for parade, and one for ordinary use. A small 
shelf containing some half a dozen books formed his library, 
one of which, a little old mouldy volume of philosophical max- 
ims, was his favorite reading. This he thumbed and pondered 
over day by day, applying every maxim to his own particular 
case, provided it had a little tinge of wholesome bitterness, and 
treated of the injustice of the world. 

Yet he was social and kind-hearted, and, provided he could 
be diverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, was an enter- 
f;aining companion. I like these old weather-beaten sons of 
tbrtune, and enjoy their rough campaigning anecdotes. In the 
course of my visits to the one in question, I learnt some curious 
facts about an old military commander of the fortress, who 
seems to have resembled him in some respects, and to have had 
similar fortunes in the wars. These particulars have been aug- 
mented by inquiries among some of the old inhabitants of the 
place, particularly the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose tra- 
ditional stories the worthy I am about to introduce to the 
reader was a favorite hero. 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY 

In former times there ruled, as governor of the* Alhambra^ a 
doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one. arm in the 
wars, was commonly known by the name of el Gobernador 
Manco, or " the one-armed governor." He in fact prided him- 
self upon being an old soldier, wore his moustaches curled up 
to his eyes, a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo as long 
as a spit, with his pocket-handkerchief in the basket-hilt. 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, and 
tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Under his sway 
the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and do- 
main, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted to enter 



264 THE ALHAMBRA 

the fortress with firearms, or even with a sword or staff, unless 
he were of a certain rank ; and every horseman was obliged to 
dismount at the gate, and lead his horse by the bridle. Now 
as the hill of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the 
city of Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capital, 
it must at all times be somewhat irksome to the captain-gen- 
eral, who commands the province, to have thus an imperium 
in imperio, a petty independent post in the very centre of his 
domains. It was rendered the more galling, in the present in- 
stance, from the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that took 
fire on the least question of authority and jurisdiction ; and 
from the loose, vagrant character of the people who had gradu- 
ally nestled themselves vfithin the fortress, as in a sanctuary, 
and thence carried on a system of roguery and depredation at 
the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city. 

Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between 
the captain-general and the governor, the more virulent on the 
part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two neighboring 
potentates is always the most captious about his dignity. The 
stately palace of the captain-general stood in the Plaza Nueva, 
immediately at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra ; and here 
was always a bustle and parade of guards, and domestics, and 
city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the fortress over- 
looked the palace and public square in front of it, and on this 
bastion the old governor would occasionally strut backwards 
and forwards, with his toledo girded by his side, keeping a wary 
eye down upon his rival, like a hawk reconnoitring his quarry 
from his nest in a dry tree. 

Whenever he descended into the city, it was in grand parade ; 
on horseback, surrounded by his guards ; or in his state coach, 
an ancient and unwieldy Spanish edifice of carved timber and 
gilt leather, drawn by eight mules, with running footmen, out- 
riders, and lackeys ; on which occasions he flattered himself 
he impressed every beholder with awe and admiration as vice- 



RIVAL POTENTATES 265 

gerent of the king ; though the wits of Granada, particularly 
those who loitered about the palace of the captain-general, 
w^ere apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in allusion to the 
vagrant character of his subjects, to greet him with the appel- 
lation of " the king of the beggars." One of the most fruitful 
sources of dispute between these two doughty rivals was the right ' 
claimed by the governor to have all things passed free of duty 
through the city that were intended for the use of himself or 
his garrison. By degrees this privilege had given rise to exten- 
sive smuggling. A nest of contrabandistas took up their abode 
in the hovels of the fortress and the numerous caves in its 
vicinity, and drove a thriving business under the connivance of 
the soldiers of the garrison. 

The vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He con- 
sulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddlesome 
escribano, or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity of perplex- 
ing the old potentate of the Alhambra, and involving him in a 
maze of legal subtleties. He advised the captain-general to 
insist upon the right of examining every convoy passing through 
the gates of his city, and penned a long letter for him in vindi- 
cation of the right. Governor Manco was a straightforward 
cut-and-thrust old soldier, who hated an escribano worse than 
the devil, and this one in particular worse than all other escri- 
banos. 

"What! " said he, curling up his moustaches fiercely, "does 
the captain-general set his man of the pen to practise confu- 
sions upon me? I'll let him see an old soldier is not to be 
baffled by schoolcraft." 

He seized his pen and scrawled a short letter in a crabbed 
hand, in which, without deigning to enter into argument, he 
insisted on the right of transit free of search, and denounced 
vengeance on any custom-house officer who should lay his un- 
hallowed hand on any convoy protected by the flag of the 
Alhambra. While this question was agitated between the two 



266 THE ALHAMBRA 

pragmatical potentates, it so happened that a mule laden with 
supplies for tiie fortress arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, 
by whicli it was to traverse a suburb of the city on its way to 
the Alhambra. The convoy was headed by a testy old corporal, 
who liad long served under tlie governor, and was a man after 
'liis own heart, as rusty and stanch as an old Toledo blade. 

As they approached the gate of the city, the corporal placed 
the banner of the Alhambra on the pack-saddle of the mule, 
and (h-awing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced 
with his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side- 
glance of a cur passing through hostile ground and ready for 
a sntij) and a snarl. 

" Wlio goes there?" said the sentinel at the gate. 

" Soldier of tlie Alhambra ! " said the corporal, without turn- 
ing his liead. 

"What liave you in charge?" 

"Provisions for tlie garrison." 

"Proceed." 

The corporal marched straight forward, followed by the con- 
voy, but liad not advanc^ed many paces before a posse of custom- 
house olH(tcrs rushed out of a small toll-house. 

" Hallo there ! " cried the leader. " Muleteer, halt, and open 
those packages." 

The corjioral wheeled round and drew himself up in battle 
array. " Respect the flag of the Alhambra," said he ; " these 
things are for the governor." 

" A figo for the governor and a figo for his flag. Muleteer, 
halt, I say." 

"Stop the convoy at your peril ! " cried the corporal, cocking 
his musket. " Muleteer, proceed." 

Tlie muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack ; the custom- 
house oHicer s})rang forward and seized the halter ; whereupon 
the corporal levelled his piece and shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. 



LEGAL TILTING 267 

The old corporal was seized, and after undergoing sundry 
kicks, and cuffs, and cndgellings, which are generally given im- 
promptu by tlie mob in Spain as a foretaste of the after penal- 
ties of the law, he was loaded with irons and conducted to the 
city prison, while his comrades were permitted to proceed with 
the convoy, after it had been well rummaged, to the Alhambra. 

The old governor was in a towering passion when he heard 
of this insult to his flag and capture of his corporal. For a 
time he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapored about 
the bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon the palace 
of the captain-general. Having vented the first ebullition of 
his wrath, he dispatched a message demanding the surrender 
of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting in 
judgment on the offences of those under his command. The 
captain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted escribano, 
replied at great length, arguing, that, as the offence had been 
committed within the walls of his city, and against one of his 
civil officers, it was clearly within his proper jurisdiction. The 
governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand ; the captain- 
general gave a surrejoinder of still greater length and legal 
acumen ; the governor became hotter and more peremptory in 
his demands, and the captain-general cooler and more copious 
in his replies ; until the old lion-hearted soldier absolutely roared 
with fury at being thus entangled in the meshes of legal con- 
troversy. 

While the subtle escribano was thus amusing himself at the 
expense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of the 
corporal, who, mewed up in a narrow dungeon of the prison, 
had merely a small grated window at which to show his iron- 
bound visage and receive the consolations of his friends. 

A mountain of written testimony was diligently heaped up, 
according to Spanish form, by the indefatigable escribano ; the 
corporal was completely overwhelmed by it. He was convicted 
of murder, and sentenced to be hanged. 



26S THE ALHAMBRA 

It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and 
menace from the Alhambra, The fatal day was at hand, and 
the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the chapel 
of the prison, as is always done with culprits the day before 
execution, that they may meditate on their approaching end 
and repent them of their sins. 

Seeing things drawing to extremity, the old governor deter- 
mined to attend to the ajffair in person. For this purpose he 
ordered out his carriage of state, and, surrounde<l by his guards, 
rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra into the city. Driv- 
ing to the house of the escribano, he summoned him to the 
portal. 

The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at beholding 
the smirking man of the law advancing with an air of exultation. 

"What is this I hear," cried he, " that you are about to put 
to death one of my soldiers 1 " 

"All according to law — all in strict form of justice," said 
the self-sufficient escribano, chuckling and rubbing his hands; 
" I can show your Excellency the written testimony in the case." 

" Fetch it hither," said the governor. The escribano bustled 
into his office, delighted with having another opportunity of dis- 
playing his ingenuity at the expense of the hard-headed veteran. 
He returned with a satchel full of papers, and began to read 
a long deposition with professional volubility. By this time a 
crowd had collected, listening with outstretched necks and gaping 
mouths. 

" Prithee, man, get into the carriage, out of this pestilent 
throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the governor. 

The escribano entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling, 
the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, — mules, 
carriage, guards, and all dashed off at a thundering rate, leav- 
ing the crowd in gaping wonderment ; nor did the governor 
pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the strongest 
dungeons of the Alhambra. 



THE RIVAL GIBBETS 269 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, propos- 
ing a cartel, or exchange of prisoners, — the corporal for the 
notary. The pride of the captain-general was piqued ; he re- 
turned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gallows, 
tall and strong, to be erected in the centre of the Plaza Nueva 
for the execution of the corporal. 

" Oho ! is that the game 1 " said Governor Manco. He gave 
orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared on the verge of 
the great beetling bastion that overlooked the Plaza. "Now," 
said he, in a message to the captain-general, "hang my soldier 
when you please ; but at the same time that he is swung off in 
the square, look up to see your escribano dangling against the 
sky." 

The captain-general was inflexible ; troops were paraded in 
the square, the drums beat, the bell tolled. An immense mul- 
titude of amateurs gathered together to behold the execution. 
On the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison on the 
bastion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary from the 
Torre de la Campana, or Tower of the Bell. 

The notary's wife pressed through the crowd, with a whole 
progeny of little embryo escribanos at her heels, and throwing 
herself at the feet of the captain-general, implored him not to 
sacrifice the life of her husband, and the welfare of herself and 
her numerous little ones, to a point of pride; "for you know 
the old governor too well," said she, "to doubt that he will put 
his threat in execution, if you hang the soldier." 

The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and lamen- 
tations, and the clamors of her callow brood. The corporal was 
sent up to the Alhambra, under a guard, in his gallows garb, 
like a hooded friar, but with head erect and a face of iron. 
The escribano was demanded in exchange, according to the 
cartel. The once bustling and self-sufficient man of the law 
was drawn forth from his dungeon more dead, than alive. All 
his flippancy and conceit had evaporated ; his hair, it is said, 



270 THE ALHAMBRA 

had nearly turned gray with affright, and he had a downcast, 
dogged look, as if he still felt the halter round his neck. 

The old governor stuck his one arm akimbo, and for a mo- 
ment surveyed him with an iron smile. " Henceforth, my 
friend," said he, "moderate your zeal in hurrying others to the 
gallows ; be not too certain of your safety, even though you 
should have the law on your side ; and, above all, take care how 
you play off your Schoolcraft another time upon an old soldier.'* 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER 

While Governor Manco, or "the one-armed," kept up a show 
of military state in the Alhambra, he became nettled at the re- 
proaches continually cast upon his fortress, of being a nestling- 
place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sudden, the old 
potentate determined on reform, and setting vigorously to work, 
ejected whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress and the 
gypsy caves with which the surrounding hills are honeycombed. 
He sent out soldiers, also, to patrol the avenues and footpaths, 
with orders to take up all suspicious persons. 

One bright summer morning a patrol, consisting of the testy 
old corporal who had distinguished himself in the affiiir of the 
notary, a trumpeter, and two privates, was seated under the 
garden-wall of the Generalife, beside the road which leads down 
from the Mountain of the Sun, when they heard the tramp of 
a horse, and a male voice singing in rough, though not un- 
musical tones, an old Castilian campaigning- song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sunburnt fellow, clad in the 
ragged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful Arabian horse 
caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 

Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier descending, steed 
in hand, from that solitary mountain, the corporal stepped 
forth and challenged him. 



THE SOLDIER AND THE PATROL 271 

" AVho goes there ? " 

"A friend." 

" Who and what are you 1 " 

"A poor soldier just from the wars, with a cracked crown 
and empty purse for a reward." 

By this time they were enabled to view him more narrowly. 
He had a black patch across his forehead, which, with a griz- 
zled beard, added to a certain dare-devil cast of countenance, 
while a slight squint threw into the whole an occasional gleam 
of roguish good-humor. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier 
seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in return. 
" May I ask," said he, " what dty is that which I see at the 
foot of the hill ? " 

" What city ! " cried the trumpeter ; " come, that's too bad. 
Here's a fellow lurking about the Mountain of the Sun, and de- 
mands the name of the great city of Granada ! " 

"Granada ! Madre di Dios ! can it be possible?" 

" Perhaps not ! " rejoined the trumpeter ; " and perhaps 
you have no idea that yonder are the towers of the Alham- 
bra." 

" Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, "do not trifle with 
me ; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some strange 
matters to reveal to the governor." 

"You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, "for we 
mean to take you before him." By this time the trumpeter 
had seized the bridle of the steed, the two privates had each 
secured an arm of the soldier, the corporal put himself in front, 
gave the word, " Forward — march ! " and away they marched 
for the Alhambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian horse, 
brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the attention of all the 
idlers of the fortress, and of those gossip groups that generally 
assemble about wells and fountains at early dawn. The 



272 THE ALHAMBRA 

wheel of the cistern paused in its rotations, and the slip- 
shod servant-maid stood gaping, with pitcher in hand, as the 
corporal passed by with his prize. A motley train gradually 
gathered in the rear of the escort. 

Knowing nods and winks and conjectures passed from one to 
another. " It is a deserter," said one ; " A contrabandista," 
said another; "A bandolero," said a third; — until it was 
aflSrmed that a captain of a desperate band of robbers had been 
captured by the prowess of the corporal and his patrol. " Well, 
well," said the old crones, one to another, " captain or not, let 
him get out of the grasp of old Governor Manco if he can, 
though he is but one-handed." 

Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls of 
the Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of chocolate in com- 
pany with his confessor, — a fat Franciscan friar, from the 
neighboring convent. A demure, dark-eyed damsel of Malaga, 
the daughter of his housekeeper, was attending upon him. 
The world hinted that the damsel, who, with all her demure- 
ness, was a sly buxom baggage, had found out a soft spot 
in the iron heart of the old governor, and held complete con- 
trol over him. But let that pass — the domestic affairs of 
these mighty potentates of the earth should not be too nar- 
rowly scrutinized. 

When word was brought that a suspicious stranger liad been 
taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually in the outer 
court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the pleasure of his 
Excellency, the pride and stateliness of office swelled the bosom 
of the governor. Giving back his chocolate-cup into the hands 
of the demure damsel, he called for his basket-hilted sword, 
girded it to his side, twirled up his moustaches, took his seat 
in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and forbidding 
aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence. The soldier 
was brought in, still closely pinioned by his captors, and 
guarded by the corporal. He maintained, however, a resolute, 



A SOLDIER'S STORY 273 

self-confident air, and returned the sharp, scrutinizing look of 
the governor with an easy squint, which by no means pleased 
the punctilious old potentate. 

" Well, culprit," said the governor, after he had regarded 
him for a moment in silence, " what have you to say for your- 
self — who are you ? " 

" A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought away noth- 
ing but scars and bruises." 

"A soldier — humph — a foot-soldier by your garb. I 
understand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume you 
brought him too from the wars, besides your scars and bruises." 
"May it please your Excellency, I have something strange 
to tell about that horse. Indeed I have one of the most 
wonderful things to relate. Something too that concerns the 
security of this fortress, indeed of all Granada. But it is a 
matter to be imparted only to your private ear, or in presence 
of such only as are in your confidence." 

The governor considered for a moment, and then directed 
the corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post themselves 
outside of the door, and be ready at a call. " This holy friar," 
said he, " is my confessor, you may say anything in his pres- 
ence;— and this damsel," nodding towards the handmaid, 
who had loitered with an air of great curiosity, " this damsel 
is of great secrecy and discretion, and to be trusted with any- 
thing." 

The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer at the 
demure handmaid. "I am perfectly willing," said he, "that 
the damsel should remain." 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced his 
story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued varlet, and had a com- 
mand of language above his apparent rank. 

" May it please your Excellency," said he, "I am, as I before 
observed, a soldier, and have seen some hard service, but my term 
of enlistment being expired, I was discharged, not long since, 



274 THE ALHAMBRA 

from the army at Valladolid, and set out on foot for my native 
village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening the sun went down as 
I was traversing a great dry plain of Old Castile." 

" Hold ! " cried the governor, " what is this you say? Old 
Castile is some two or three hundred miles from this." 

" Even so," replied the soldier, coolly. " I told your Excel- 
lency I had strange things to relate; but not more strange than 
true, as your Excellency will find, if you will deign me a patient 
hearing." 

" Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his mous- 
taches. 

" As the sun went down," continued the soldier, " I cast my 
eyes about in search of quarters for the night, but as far as my 
sight could reach there were no signs of habitation. I saw that 
I should have to make my bed on the naked plain, with my 
knapsack for a pillow ; but your Excellency is an old soldier, 
and knows that to one who has been in the wars, such a night's 
lodging is no great hardship." 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket-handker- 
chief out of the basket-hilt to drive away a fly that buzzed 
about his nose. 

"Well, to make a long story short," continued the soldier, 
" I trudged forward for several miles until I came to a bridge 
over a deep ravine, through which ran a little thread of water, 
almost dried up by the summer heat. At one end of the bridge 
was a Moorish tower, the upper end all in ruins, but a vault in 
the foundation quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a good place to 
make a halt ; so I went down to the stream, and took a hearty 
drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I was parched 
with thirst ; then, opening my wallet, I took out an onion and 
a few crusts, which were all my provisions, and seating myself 
on a stone on the margin of the stream, began to make my sup- 
per, — intending afterwards to quarter myself for the night in 
the vault of the tower ; and capital quarters they would have 



THE MOORISH TROOPER 275 

been for a campaigner just from the wars, as your Excellency, 
who is an old soldier, may suppose." 

" I have put uj) gladly with worse in my time," said the 
governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt of his 
sword. 

" While I was quietly crunching my crusts," pursued the sol- 
dier, " I heard something stir within the vault ; I listened — it 
was the tramp of a horse. By-and-by a man came forth from a 
door in the foundation of the tower, close by the water's edge, 
leading a powerful horse by the bridle. I could not well make 
out what he was, by the starlight. It had a suspicious look 
to be lurking among the ruins of a tower, in that wild, solitary 
place. He might be a mere wayfarer, like myself; he might 
be a contrabandista ; he might be a bandolero ! wliat of that 1 
thank heaven and my poverty, I had nothing to lose ; so I sat 
still and crunched my crust. 

" He led his horse to the water, close by where I was sitting, 
so that I had a fair opportunity of reconnoitring him. To my 
surprise he was dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of 
steel, and a polished skull-cap that I distinguished by the re- 
flection of the stars upon it. His horse, too, was harnessed 
in the Morisco fashion, with great shovel stirrups. He led 
him, as I said, to the side of the stream, into which the animal 
plunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank until I thought 
he would have burst. 

" ' Comrade,' said I, 'your steed drinks well ; it's a good sign 
when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the water.' 

" ' He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking with a 
Moorish accent ; ' it is a good year since he had his last draught.' 

" ' By Santiago,' said I, ' that beats even the camels I have 
seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be something of a sol- 
dier, will you sit down and take part of a soldier's fare 1 ' In 
fact, I felt the want of a companion in this lonely place, and 
was willing to put up with an infidel. Besides, as your Excel- 



276 THE ALHAMBRA 

lency well knows, a soldier is never very particular about the 
faith of his company, and soldiers of all countries are comrades 
on peaceable grounds." 

The governor again nodded assent. 

" Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper, 
such as it was, for I could not do less in common hospitality. 
' I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' said he, 'I have a 
long journey to make before morning,' 

" ' In what direction?' said I. 

" ' Andalusia,' said he. 

" ' Exactly my route,' said I ; 'so, as you won't stop and eat 
with me, perhaps you will let me mount and ride with you. I 
see your horse is of a powerful frame ; I'll warrant he'll carry 
double.' 

'" Agreed,' said the trooper; and it would not have been 
oivil and soldier-like to refuse, especially as I had offered to share 
'By supper with him. So up he niounted, and up I mounted 
behind him. 

" ' Hold fast,' said he, ' my steed goes like the wind.' 

" ^ Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set. 

" From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot 
to a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarum scamper. It 
seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, everything flew hurry-scurry 
behind us. 

" ' What town is this 1 ' said I. 

"'Segovia,' said he; and before the word was out of his 
mouth the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept 
up the Guadarama mountains, and down by the Escurial ; and 
we skirted the walls of Madrid, and we scoured away across the 
plains of La Mancha. In this way we went up hill and down 
dale, by towers and cities, all buried in deep sleep, and across 
mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering in the star- 
light. 

" To make a long stoiy short, and not to fatigue your Excel 



THE ENCHANTED CAVERN 277 

lency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a mountain 
* Here we are,' said he, 'at the end of our journey.' I looked 
about, but could see no signs of habitation; nothing but the 
mouth of a cavern. While I looked I saw multitudes of people 
in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on foot, arriving as 
if borne by the wind from all points of the compass, and hurry- 
ing into the mouth of the cavern like bees into a hive. Before 
I could ask a question, the trooper struck his long Moorish 
spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with the throng. 
We passed along a steep winding way, that descended into the 
very bowels of the mountain. As we pushed on, a light began 
to glimmer up, by little and little, like the first glimmerings of 
day, but what caused it I could not discern. It grew stronger 
and stronger, and enabled me to see everything around. I now 
noticed, as we passed along, great caverns, opening to the right 
and left, like halls in an arsenal. In some there were shields, 
and helmets, and cuirasses, and lances, and cimeters, hanging 
against the walls ; in others there were great heaps of warlike 
munitions and camp-equipage lying upon the ground. 

" It would have done your Excellency's heart good, being an 
old soldier, to have seen such grand provision for war. Then, 
in other caverns, there were long rows of horsemen armed to 
the teeth, with lances raised and banners unfurled, all ready for 
the field; but they all sat motionless in their saddles, like so 
many statues. In other halls were warriors sleeping on the 
ground beside their horses, and foot-soldiers in groups ready to 
fall into the ranks. All were in old-fashioned Moorish dresses 
and armor. 

"Well, your Excellency, to cut a long story short, we at 
length entered an immense cavern, or I may say palace, of 
grotto- work, the walls of which seemed to be veined with gold 
and silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and sapphires and all 
kinds of precious stones. At the upper end sat a Moorish king 
on a golden throne, with his nobles on each side, and a guard 



278 THE ALHAMBRA 

of African blacks with drawn cimeters. All the crowd that 
continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and thousands, 
passed one by one before his throne, each paying homage as lie 
passed. Some of the multitude were dressed in magnificent 
robes, without stain or blemish, and sparkling with jewels ; 
others in burnished and enamelled armor; while others were 
in mouldered and mildewed garments, and in armor all battered 
and dented and covered with rust. 

"I had hitherto held my tongue, for your Excellency well 
knows it is not for a soldier to ask many questions when on 
duty, but I could keep silent no longer. 

"'Prithee, comrade,' said I, 'what is the meaning of all 
this?' 

"'This,' said the trooper, 'is a great and fearful mystery. 
Know, Christian, that you see before you the court and army 
of Boabdil, the last king of Granada.' 

" ' What is this you tell me 1 ' cried I. ' Boabdil and his 
court were exiled from the land hundreds of years agone, and 
all died in Africa.' 

" ' So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,' replied the Moor; 
' but know that Boabdil and the warriors who made the last 
struggle for Granada were all shut up in the mountain by 
powerful enchantment. As for the king and army that marched 
forth from Granada at the time of the surrender, they were a 
mere phantom train of spirits and demons, permitted to assume 
those shapes to deceive the Christian sovereigns. And further- 
more let me tell you, friend, that all Spain is a country under 
the power of enchantment. There is not a mountain cave, not 
a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor ruined castle on the 
hills, but has some spellbound warriors sleeping from age to 
age within its vaults, until the sins are expiated for which 
Allah permitted the dominion to pass for a time out of the 
hands of the faithful. Once every year, on the eve of St. John, 
they are released from enchantment, from sunset to sunrise, and 



THE ENCHANTED ARMY 279 

permitted to repair here to pay homage to their sovereign ; and 
the crowds which you beheld swarming into the cavern are 
Moslem warriors from their haunts in all parts of Spain.^ For 
my own part, you saw the ruined tower of the bridge in Old 
Castile, where I have now wintered and summered for many 
hundred years, and where I must be back again by daybreak. 
As to the battalions of horse and foot which you beheld drawn 
up in array in the neighboring caverns, they are the spellbound 
warriors of Granada. It is written in the book of fate, that 
when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will descend from the 
mountain at the head of this army, resume his throne in the 
Alhambra and his sway of Granada, and gathering together 
the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain, will reconquer 
the Peninsula and restore it to Moslem rule.' , 

" ' And when shall this happen?' said I. 

*' ' Allah alone knows : we had hoped the day of deliverance 
was at hand ; but there reigns at present a vigilant governor in 
the Alhambra, a stanch old soldier, well known as Governor 
Manco. While such a warrior holds command of the very out- 
post, and stands ready to check the first irruption from the 
mountain, I fear Boabdil and his soldiery must be content to 
rest upon their arms.'" 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicularly, 
adjusted his sword, and twirled up his moustaches. 

''To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your Excel- 
lency, the trooper, having given me this account, dismounted 
from his steed. 

" ' Tarry here,' said he, 'and guard my steed while I go and 
bow the knee to Boabdil' So saying, he strode away among 
the throng that pressed forward to the throne. 

" ' What's to be done ? ' thought I, when thus left to myself : 
'shall I wait here until this infidel returns to whisk me off 
on his goblin steed, the Lord knows where ; or shall I make 
the most of my time and beat a retreat from this hobgoblin 



280 THE ALHAMBRA 

community?' A soldier's mind is soon made up, as your 
Excellency well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to an 
avowed enemy of the faith and the realm, and was a fair prize 
according to the rules of war. So hoisting myself from th-^ 
crupper into the saddle, I turned the reins, struck the Moorish 
stirrups into the sides of the steed, and put him to make the 
best of his way out of the passage by which he had entered. 
As we scoured by the halls where the Moslem horsemen sat in 
motionless battalions, I thought I heard the clang of armor and 
a hollow murmur of voices. I gave the steed another taste of 
the stirrups and doubled my speed. There was now a sound 
behind me like a rushing blast ; I heard the clatter of a thou- 
sand hoofs ; a countless throng overtook me. I was borne 
along in the press, and hurled forth from the mouth of the 
cavern, while thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in 
every (.lirection by the four winds of heaven. 

"In the whirl and confusion of the scene I was thrown 
senseless to the earth. When I came to myself, I was lying 
on the brow of a hill, with the Arabian steed standing beside 
me ; for in falling, my arm had slipped within tlic bridle, 
which, I presume, prevented his whisking off to Old Castile. 

"Your Excellency may easily judge of my surprise, on look- 
ing round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs and other 
proofs of a southern climate, and to see a great city below me, 
with towers, and a grand cathedral. 

" I descended the hill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was 
afraid to mount him again, lest he should play me some slippery 
trick. As I descended I met with your patrol, who let me into 
the secret that it was Granada that lay before me, and that I 
was actually under the walls of the Alhambra, the fortress of 
the redoubted Governor Maneo, the terror of all enchanted 
Moslems. When I heard this, I determined at once to seek 
your Excellency, to inform you of all that I had seen, and to 
warn you of the perils that surround and undermine you, that 



A MOORISH PURSE 2Sl 

you may take measures in time to guard your fortress, and the 
kingdom itself, from this intestine array that lurks.in the very 
bowels of the land." 

" And prithee, friend, you who are a veteran campaigner, 
and have seen so much service," said the governor, "how would 
you advise me to proceed, in order to prevent this evil 1 " 

" It is not for a humble private of the ranks," said the soldier, 
modestly, " to pretend to instruct a commander of your Excel- 
lency's sagacity, but it appears to me that your Excellency 
might cause all the caves and entrances into the mountains to 
be walled up with solid mason-work, so that Boabdil and his 
army might be completely corked up in their subterranean 
habitation. If the good father, too," added the soldier, rev- 
erently bowing to the friar, and devoutly crossing him_sell, 
"would consecrate the barricadoes with his blessing, and put 
up a few crosses and relics and images of saints, I think they 
might withstand all the power of infidel enchantments." 

"They doubtless would be of great avail," said the friar. 

The governor now placed his arm akimbo, with his hand 
resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon the soldier, 
and gently wagging his head from one side to the other : — 

"So, friend," said he, "then you really suppose I am to be 
gulled with this cock-and-bull story about enchanted mountains 
and enchanted Moors 1 Hark ye, culprit ! — not another word. 
An old soldier you may be, but you'll find you have an older 
soldier to deal with, and one not easily outgeneralled. Ho ! 
guards there ! put this fellow in irons." 

The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favor of 
the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with a look. 

As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt 
something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, found a 
long leathern purse that appeared to be well filled. Holding it 
by one corner, he turned out the contents upon the table before 
the governor, and never did freebooter's bag make more 



282 THE ALHAMBRA 

gorgeous delivery. Out tumbled rings, and jewels, and rosax*ies 
of pearls, g,jid sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of 
ancient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the floor, and 
rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber. 

For a time the functions of justice were suspended ; there 
was a universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. The 
governor alone, who was imbued with true Spanish pride, 
maintained his stately decorum, though his eye betrayed a 
little anxiety until the last coin and jewel was restored to the 
sack. 

The friar was not so calm ; his whole face glowed like a 
furnace, and his eyes twinkled and flashed at the sight of 
rosaries and crosses. 

" Sacrilegious wretch that thou art ! " exclaimed he ; " what 
church or sanctuary hast thou been plundering of these sacred 
relics ? " 

" Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be sacri- 
legious spoils, they must have been taken, in times long past, 
by the infidel trooper I have mentioned. I was just going to 
tell his Excellency when he interrupted me, that, on taking 
possession of the trooper's horse, I unhooked a leathern sack 
which hung at the saddle-bow, and which I presume contained 
the plunder of his campaignings in days of old, when the Moors 
overran the country." 

" Mighty well ; at present you will make up your mind to 
take up your quarters in a chamber of the vermilion tower, 
which, though not under a magic spell, will hold you as safe as 
any cave of your enchanted Moors." 

"Your Excellency will do as you think proper," said the pris- 
oner, coolly. " I shall be thankful to your Excellency for any 
accommodation in the fortress. A soldier who has been in the 
wars, as your Excellency well knows, is not particular about his 
lodgings. Provided I have a snug dungeon and regular rations, 
T shall manage to make myself comfortable. I would only en- 



A SOLDIER'S QUARTERS 283 

treat that while your Excellency is so careful about me, you 
would have an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint I 
dropped about stopping up the entrances to the mountain." 

Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a 
strong dungeon in the vermilion tower, the Arabian steed was 
led to his Excellency's stable, and the trooper's sack was de- 
posited in his Excellency's strong box. To the latter, it is true, 
the friar made some demur, questioning whether the sacred relics, 
which were evidently sacrilegious spoils, should not be placed in 
custody of the church ; but as the governor was peremptory on 
the subject, and was absolute lord in the Alhambra, the friar 
discreetly dropped the discussion, but determined to convey in- 
telligence of the fact to the church dignitaries in Granada. 

To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the part of 
old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe, that about this 
time the Alpuxarra mountains in the neighborhood of Granada 
were terribly infested by a gang of robbers, under the command 
of a daring chief named Manuel Borasco, who were accustomed 
to prowl about the country, and even to enter the city in vari- 
ous disguises, to gain intelligence of the departure of convoys 
of merchandise, or travellers with well-lined purses, whom they 
took care to waylay in distant and solitary passes of the road. 
These repeated and daring outrages had awakened the attention 
of government, and the commanders of the various posts harj 
received instructions to be on the alert, and to take up all suspi- 
cious stragglers. Governor Manco was particularly zealous in 
consequence of the various stigmas that had been cast upon his 
fortress, and he now doubted not he had entrapped some formi- 
dable desperado of this gang. 

In the meantime the story took wind, and became the talk, 
not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of Granada. 
It was said that the noted robber Manuel Borasco, the terroi 
of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the clutches of old Governor 
Manco, and been cooped up by him in a dungeon of the ver- 



284 THE ALHAMBRA 

mil ion towers ; and every one who had been robbed by him 
flocked to recognize the marauder. The vermilion towers, as is 
well known, stand apart from the Alhambra on a sister hill, 
separated from the main fortress by the ravine down which passes 
the main avenue. There were no outer walls, "but a sentinel 
patrolled before the tower. The window of the chamber in 
which the soldier was confined was strongly grated, and looked 
upon a small esplanade. Here the good folks of Granada repaired 
to gaze at him, as they would at a laughing hyena, grinning 
through the cage of a menagerie. Nobody, however, recognized 
him for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible robber was noted for 
a ferocious physiognomy, and had by no means the good-humored 
squint of the prisoner. Visitors came not merely irom the city, 
but from all parts of the country ; but nobody knew him, and 
there began to be doubts in the minds of the common people 
whether there might not be some truth in his story. That 
Boabdil and his army were shut up in the mountain, was an old 
tradition which many of the ancient inhabitants had heard from 
their fathers. Numbers went up to the Mountain of the Sun, 
or rather of St. Elena, in search of the cave mentioned by the 
soldier ; and saw and peeped into the deep dark pit, descending, 
no one knows how far, into the mountain, and which remains 
there to this day — the fabled entrance to the subten'anean 
abode of Boabdil. 

By degrees the soldier became popular with the common peo- 
ple. A freebooter of the mountains is by no means the oppro- 
brious character in Spain that a robber is in any other country ; 
on the contrary, he is a kind of chivalrous personage in the eyes 
of the lower classes. There is always a disposition, also, to 
cavil at the conduct of those in command ; and many began to 
murmur at the high-handed measures of old Governor Manco, 
and to look upon the prisoner in the light of a martyr. 

The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that had 
a joke for every one who came near his window, and a soft 



MANUEL BORASGO 285 

speech for every female. He had procured an old guitar also, 
and would sit by his window and sing ballads and love-ditties 
to the delight of the women of the neighborhood, who would 
assemble on the esplanade in the evening and dance boleros to 
his music. Having trimmed oflf his rough beard, his sunburnt 
face found favor in the eyes of the fair, and the demure hand- 
maid of the governor declared that his squint was perfectly 
irresistible. This kind-hearted damsel had from the first evinced 
a deep sympathy in his fortunes, and having in vain tried to 
mollify the governor, had set to work privately to mitigate the 
rigor of his dispensations. Every day she brought the prisoner 
some crumbs of comfort which had fallen from the governor's 
table, or been abstracted from his larder, together^ with, now 
and then, a consoling bottle of choice Val de Penas, or rich 
Malaga. 

While this petty treason was going on in the very centre of 
the old governor's citadel, a storm of open war was brewing up 
among his external foes. The circumstance of a bag of gold 
and jewels having been found upon the person of the supposed 
robber, had been reported, with many exaggerations, in Granada. 
A question of territorial jurisdiction was immediately started by 
the governor's inveterate rival, the captain-general. He insisted 
that^'the prisoner had been captured without the precincts of the 
Alhambra, and within the rules of his authority. He demanded 
his body therefore, and the spolia opima taken with him. Due 
information having been carried likewise by the friar to the grand 
inquisitor of the crosses and rosaries, and other relics contained 
in the bag, he claimed the culprit as having been guilty of sacri- 
lege, and insisted that his plunder was due to the church, and his 
body to the next auto-de-fe. The feuds ran high ; the governor 
was furious, and swore, rather than surrender his captive, he 
would hang him up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught within 
the purlieus of the fortress. 

The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers to 



286 THE aLHAMBRA 

transfer the prisoner from the vermilion tower to the city. The 
grand inquisitor was equally bent upon dispatching a number 
of the familiars of the Holy Office. Word was brought late at 
night to the governor of these machinations. " Let them come," 
said he, "they'll find me beforehand with them; he must rise 
bright and early wlio would take in an old soldier." He accord- 
ingly issued orders to have the prisoner removed, at daybreak, 
to the donjon-keep within the walls of the Alhambra. "And 
d'ye hear, child," said he to his demure handmaid, "tap at my 
door, and wake me before cock-crowing, that I may see to the 
matter myself." 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped at the 
door of the governor. The sun rose high above the mountain- 
tops, and glittered in at his casement, ere the governor was 
awakened from his morning dreams by his veteran corporal, 
who stood before him with terror stamped upon his iron visage. 

"He's off! he's gone !" cried the corporal, gasping for breath. 

*' Who's off— who's gone? " 

"The soldier — the robber — the devil, for aught I know; 
his dungeon is empty, but the door locked : no one knows how 
he has escaped out of it." 

"Who saw him last?" 

"Your handmaid; she brought him his supper." 

" Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the 
demure damsel was likewise empty, her bed had not been slept 
in: she had doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she had 
appeared, for some days past, to have frequent conversations 
with him. 

This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, but 
he had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfortunes broke 
upon his view. On going into his cabinet he found his strong 
box open, the leather purse of the trooper abstracted, and with 
it a couple of corpulent bags of doubloons. 



A FETE IN THE ALHAMBRA 287 

But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? An old 
peasant who lived in a cottage by the road-side leading up into 
the Sierra declared that he had heard the tramp of a powerful 
steed just before daybreak, passing up into the mountains. He 
had looked out at his casement, and could just distinguish a 
horseman, with a female seated before him. 

" Search the stables ! " cried Governor Manco. The stables 
were searched ; all the horses were in their stalls, excepting the 
Arabian steed. In his place was a stout cudgel, tied to the 
manger, and on it a label bearing these words, "A Gift to 
Governor Manco, from an Old Soldier." 



A FETE IN THE ALHAMBRA 

The Saint's day of my neighbor and rival potentate, the 
count, took place during his sojourn in the Alhambra, on which 
occasion he gave a domestic fete ; assembling round him the 
members of his family and household, while the stewards and 
old servants from his distant possessions came to pay him rev- 
erence and partake of the good cheer which was sure to be pro- 
vided. It presented a type, though doubtless a faint one, of 
the establishment of a Spanish noble in the olden time. 

The Spaniards were always grandiose in their notions of style. 
Huge palaces ; lumbering equipages, laden with footmen and 
lackeys ; pompous retinues, and useless dependents of all kinds 
the dignity of a noble seemed commensurate with the legions 
who loitered about his halls, fed at his expense, and seemed 
ready to devour him alive. This, doubtless, originated in the 
necessity of keeping up hosts of armed retainers during the wars 
with the Moors ; wars of inroads and surprises ; when a noble 
was liable to be suddenly assailed in his castle by a foray of the 
enemy, or summoned to the field by his sovereign. 

The custom remained after the wars were at an end ; and what 



288 THE ALHAMBRA 

originated in necessity was kept up through ostentation. The 
wealth which flowed into the country from conquests and dis- 
coveries fostered the passion for the princely establishments. 
According to magnificent old Spanish usage, in which pride and 
generosity bore equal parts, a superannuated servant was never 
turned off, but became a charge for the rest of his days ; nay, 
his children, and his children's children, and often their relatives, 
to the right and left, became gradually entailed upon the family. 
Hence the huge palaces of the Spanish nobility, which have 
such an air of empty ostentation from the greatness of their 
size compared with the mediocrity and scantiness of their fur- 
niture, were absolutely required, in the golden days of Spain, 
by the patriarchal habits of their possessors. They were little 
better than vast barracks for their hereditary generations of 
hangers-on that battened at the expense of a Spanish noble. 

These patriarchal habits of the Spanish nobility have declined 
with their revenues ; though the spirit which prompted them 
remains, and wars sadly with their altered fortunes. The poor- 
est among them have always some hereditary hangers-on, who 
live at their expense, and make them poorer. Some who, like 
my neighbor the count, retain a modicum of their once princely 
possessions, keep up a shadow of the ancient system, and their 
estates are overrun, and the produce consumed by generations 
of idle retainers. 

The count held estates in various parts of the kingdom, some 
including whole villages ; yet the revenues collected from them 
were comparatively small ; some of them, he assured me, barely 
fed the hordes of dependents nestled upon them, who seemed 
to consider themselves entitled to live rent-free and be main- 
tained into the bargain, because their forefathers had been so 
since time immemorial. 

The Saint's day of the old count gave me a glimpse into a 
Spanish interior. For two or three days previous preparations 
were made for the fete. Viands of all kinds were brought up 



LA mNA 289 

from town, greeting the olfactory nerves of the old invalid 
guards, as they were borne past them through the Gate of Jus- 
tice. Servants hurried officiously about the courts ; the ancient 
kitchen of the palace was again alive with the tread of cooks 
and scullions, and blazed with unwonted fires. 

When the day arrived I beheld the old count in patriarchal 
state, his family and household around him, with functionaries 
who mismanaged his estates at a distance and consumed the pro- 
ceeds ; while numerous old worn-out servants and pensioners 
were loitering about the courts and keeping within smell of the 
kitchen. 

It was a joyous day in the Alhambra. The guests dispersed 
themselves about the palace before the hour of dinner, enjoying 
the luxuries of its courts and fountains, and embosomed gardens, 
and music and laughter resounded through its late silent halls. 

The feast, for a'^set dinner in Spain is literally a feast, was 
served in the beautiful Morisco Hall of "Las dos Hermanas." 
The table was loaded with all the luxuries of the season : there 
was an almost interminable succession of dishes ; showing how 
truly the feast at the rich Camachos' wedding in " Don Quixote " 
was a picture of a Spanish banquet. A joyous conviviality pre- 
vailed round the board ; for though Spaniards are generally ab- 
stemious, they are complete revellers on occasions like the 
present, and none more so than the Andalusians. For my part, 
there was something peculiarly exciting in thus sitting at a feast 
in the royal halls of the Alhambra, given by one who might claim 
remote affinity with its Moorish kings, and, who was a lineal rep- 
resentative of Gonsalvo of Cordova, one of the most distinguished 
of the Christian conquerors. 

The banquet ended, the company adjourned to the Hall of 
Ambassadors. Here every one endeavored to contribute to the 
general amusement, singing, improvising, telling wonderful tales, 
or dancing popular dances to that all-pervading talisman of 
Spanish pleasure, the guitar. 



290 THE ALII A MB R A 

The count's gifted little daughter was as usual the life an() 
delight of the assemblage, and I was more than ever struck 
with her aptness and wonderful versatility. She took a part 
in two or three scenes of elegant comedy with some of her com- 
panions, and performed them with exquisite point and finished 
grace ; she gave imitations of the popular Italian singers, some 
serious, some comic, with a rare quality of voice, and, I was as- 
sured, with singular fidelity ; she imitated the dialects, dances, 
ballads, and movements and manners of the gypsies and the 
peasants of the Vega with equal felicity ; but everything was 
done with an all-pervading grace and a ladylike tact perfectly 
fascinating. 

The great charm of everything she did was its freedom from 
pretension or ambitious display, its happy spontaneity. Every- 
thing sprang from the impulse of the moment ; or was in prompt 
compliance with a request. She seemed unconscious of the rarity 
and extent of her own talent, and was like a child at liome rev- 
elling in the buoyancy of its own gay and innocent spirits. In- 
deed I was told she had never exerted her talents in general 
society, but only, as at present, in the domestic circle. 

Her faculty of observation and her perception of character 
must have been remarkably quick, for she could have had only 
casual and transient glances at the scenes, manners, and customs 
depicted with such truth and spirit. " Indeed it is a continual 
wonder to us," said the countess, "where the child (la Nina) 
has picked up these things, her life being passed almost entirely 
at home, in the bosom of the fiimily." 

Evening approached ; twilight began to throw its shadows 
about the halls, and the bats to steal forth from their lurking- 
place and flit about. A notion seized the little damsel and some 
of her youthful companions, to set out, under the guidance of 
Dolores, and explore the less frequented parts of the palace in 
quest of mysteries and enchantments. Thus conducted, they 
peeped fearfully into the gloomy old mosque, but quick drew 



THE VAULTED PASSAGE 291 

back on being told that a Moorish king had been murdered 
there ; they ventured into the mysterious regions of the bath, 
frightening themselves with the sounds and murmurs of hidden 
aqueducts, and flying with mock panic at the alarm of phantom 
Moors. They then undertook the adventure of the Iron Gate, 
a place of baleful note in the Alhambra. It is a postern gate, 
opening into a dark ravine ; a narrow covered way leads down 
to it, which used to be the terror of Dolores and her playmates 
in childhood, as it was said a hand without a body would some- 
times be stretched out from the wall and seize hold of the 
passers-by. 

The little party of enchantment-hunters ventured to the 
entrance of the covered way, but nothing would tempt them to 
enter, in this hour of gathering gloom ; they dreaded the grasp 
of the phantom arm. 

At length they came running back into the Hall of Ambassa- 
dors in a mock paroxysm of terror : they had positively seen 
two spectral figures all in white. They had not stopped to ex- 
amine them ; but could not be mistaken, for they glared dis- 
tinctly through the surrounding gloom. Dolores soon arrived 
and explained the mystery. The spectres proved to be two 
statues of nymphs in white marble, placed at the entrance of a 
vaulted passage. Upon this a grave, but, as I thought, some- 
what sly old gentleman present, who, I believe, was the count's 
advocate or legal adviser, assured them that these statues were 
connected with one of the greatest mysteries of the Alhambra ; 
that there was a curious history concerning them, and, more- 
over, that they stood a living monument in marble of female 
secrecy and discretion. All present entreated him to tell the 
liistory of the statues. He took a little time to recollect the 
details, and then gave them in substance the following legend. 



292 THE ALHAMBRA 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES 

There lived once in a waste apartment of the Alhambra a 
merry little fellow, named Lope Sanchez, who worked in the 
gardens, and was as brisk and as blithe as a grasshopper, sing- 
ing all day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress ; 
when his work was over, he would sit on one of the stone 
benches of the esplanade, strum his guitar, and sing long ditties 
about the Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del 
Pulgar, and other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old 
soldiers of the fortress ; or would strike up a merrier tune, and 
set the girls dancing boleros and fandangos. 

Like most little men, Lope Sanchez had a strapping buxom 
dame for a wife, who could almost have put him in her pocket ; 
but he lacked the usual poor man's lot — instead of ten chil- 
dren he had but one. This was a little black-eyed girl about 
twelve years of age, named Sanchica, who was as merry as him- 
self, and the delight of his heart. She played about him as he 
worked in the gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in the 
shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves and 
alleys and ruined halls of the Alhambra, 

It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the holiday- 
loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and children, 
went up at night to the Mountain of the Sun, which rises above 
the Generalife, to keep their midsummer vigil on its level 
summit. It was a bright moonlight night, and all the moun- 
tains were gray and silvery, and the city, with its domes and 
spires, lay in shadows below, and the Vega was like a fairy 
land, with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky groves. 
On the highest part of the mountain they lit up a bonfire, 
according to an old custom of the country handed down from 
the Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding country were 
keeping a similar vigil, and bonfires, here and there in the 



THE JET HAND 293 

Vega, and along the folds of the mountains, blazed up palely in 
the moonlight. 

The evening was gayly passed in dancing to the guitar of 
Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a holiday 
revel of the kind. While the dance was going on, the little 
Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruins 
of an old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain, when, in 
gathering pebbles in the fosse, she found a small hand curi- 
ously carved of jet, the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly 
clasped upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she ran 
to her mother with her prize. It immediately became a sub- 
ject of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with supersti- 
tious distrust. " Throw it away," said one ; " it's Moorish, — 
depend upon it, there's mischief and witchcraft in it." " By 
no means," said another; "you may sell it for something to 
the jewellers of the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussion 
an old tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, and 
was as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand with a 
knowing look. " I have seen things of this kind," said he, 
" among the Moors of Barbary. It is a great virtue to 
guard against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and enchant- 
ments. I give you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to 
your child." 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the little 
hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung it round the neck of her 
daughter. 

The sight of this talisman called up all the favorite supersti- 
tions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, and they 
sat in groups on the ground, telling old legendary tales handed 
down from their ancestors. Some of their stories turned upon 
the wonders of the very mountain upon which they were 
seated, which is a famous hobgoblin region. One ancient 
crone gave a long account of the subterranean palace in the 
bowels of that mountain where Boabdil and all his Moslem 



2'J4 THE ALHAMBRA 

court are said to remain enchanted. "Among yonder ruins,' 
said she, pointing to some crumbling walls and mounds of 
earth on a distant part of the mountain, "there is a deep 
black pit that goes down, down into the very heart of the 
mountain. For all the money in Granada I would not look 
down into it. Once upon a time a poor man of the Alhambra, 
who tended goats upon this mountain, scrambled down into that 
pit after a kid that had fallen in. He came out again all wild 
and staring, and told such things of what he had seen, that 
every one thought his brain was turned. He raved for a day 
or two about the hobgoblin Moors that had pursued him in the 
cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to drive his goats up 
again to the mountain. He did so at last, but, poor man, he 
never came down again. The neighbors found his goats brows- 
ing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat and mantle lying near 
the mouth of the pit, but he was never more heard of." 

The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention to this 
story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a 
great hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing away 
from her companions, she sought the distant ruins, and, after 
groping for some time among them, came to a small hollow, 
or basin, near the brow of the mountain, where it swept steeply 
down into the valley of the Darro. In the centre of this basin 
yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica ventured to the verge, 
and peeped in. All was as black as pitch, and gave an idea of 
immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold ; she drew back, then 
peeped in again, then would have run away, then took another 
peep, — the very horror of the thing was delightful to her. At 
length she rolled a large stone, and pushed it over the brink. 
For some time it fell in silence ; then struck some rocky pro- 
jection with a violent crash ; then rebounded from side to side, 
rumbling and tumbling, with a noise like thunder; then made 
a final splash into water, far, far below, — and all was again 
silent. 



THE BLACK PIT 295 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as if 
something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A 
murmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum 
and buzz of a beehive. It grew louder and louder, there was the 
confusion of voices as of a distant multitude, together with the 
faint din of arms, clash of cymbals and clangor of trumpets, as if 
some army were marshalling for battle in the very bowels of 
the mountain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back to the 
place where she had left her parents and their companions. All 
were gone. The bonfire was expiring, and its last wreath of 
smoke curling up in the moonshine. The distant fires that had 
blazed along the mountains and in the Vega were all extinguished, 
and everything seemed to have sunk to repose. Sanchica called 
her parents and some of her companions by name, but received 
no reply. She ran down the side of the mountain, and by the 
gardens of the Generalife, until she arrived in the alley of trees 
leading to the Alhambra, when she seated herself on a bench 
of a woody recess, to recover breath. The bell from the watch- 
tower of the Alhambra tolled midnight. There was a deep 
tranquillity as if all nature slept ; excepting the low tinkling 
sound of an unseen stream that ran under the covert of the bushes. 
The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere was lulling her to 
sleep, when her eye was caught by something glittering at a 
distance, and to her surprise she beheld a long cavalcade of 
Moorish warriors pouring down the mountain-side and along the 
leafy avenues. Some were armed with lances and shields ; 
others, Avith cimeters and battle-axes, and with polished cui- 
rasses that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses pranced 
proudly and champed upon their bits, but their tramp caused 
no more sound than if they had been shod with felt, and the 
riders were all as pale as death. Among them rode a beautiful 
lady, with a crowned head and long golden locks entwined with 
pearls. The housings of her palfrey were of crimson velvet 



296 THE ALHAMBRA 

embroidered with gold, and swept the earth ; but she rode ah 
disconsolate, with eyes ever fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently arrayed in 
robes and turbans of divers colors, and amidst them, on a cream- 
colored charger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a royal mantle 
covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling with diamonds. 
The little Sanchica knew him by his yellow beard, and his re- 
semblance to his portrait, which she had often seen in the 
picture gallery of the Generalife. She gazed in wonder and 
admiration at this royal pageant, as it passed glistening among 
the trees ; but though she knew these monarchs and courtiers 
and warriors, so pale and silent, were out of the common course 
of nature, and things of magic and enchantment, yet she looked 
on with a bold heart, such courage did she derive from the 
mystic talisman of the hand, which was suspended about her 
neck. 

The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. It 
continued on to the great Gate of Justice, which stood wide open ; 
the old invalid sentinels on duty lay on the stone benches of the 
barbican, buried in profound and apparently charmed sleep, and 
the phantom pageant swept noiselessly by them with flaunting 
banner and triumphant state. Sanchica would have followed ; 
but to her surprise she beheld an opening in the earth, within 
the barbican, leading down beneath the foundations of the tower. 
She entered for a little distance, and was encouraged to pro- 
ceed by finding steps rudely hewn in the rock, and a vaulted 
passage here and there lit up by a silver lamp, which, while it 
gave light, diffused likewise a grateful fragrance. Venturing on, 
she came at last to a great hall, wrought out of the heart of the 
mountain, magnificently furnished in the Moorish style, and 
lighted up by silver and crystal lamps. Here, on an ottoman, 
sat an old man in Moorish dress, with a long white beard, nod- 
ding and dozing, with a staff in his hand, which seemed ever to 
be slipping from his grasp; while at a little distance sat a 



THE SUBTERRANEAN HALL 297 

beautiful lady, in ancient Spanish dress, with a coronet all 
sparkling with diamonds, and her hair entwined with pearls, 
who was softly playing on a silver lyre. The little Sanchica 
now recollected a story she had heard among the old people of 
the Alhambra, concerning a Gothic princess confined in the 
centre of the mountain by an old Arabian magician, whom she 
kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of music. 

The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in that en- 
chanted hall. "Is it the eve of the blessed St. John?" said 
she. 

"It is," replied Sanchica. 

" Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. Come 
hither, child, and fear not. I am a Christian like thyself, though 
bound here by enchantment. Touch my fetters with the talis- 
man that hangs about thy neck, and for this night I shall be 
free." 

So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad golden 
band round her waist, and a golden chain that fastened her to 
the ground. The child hesitated not to apply the little hand of 
jet to the golden band, and immediately the chain fell to the 
earth. At the sound the old man woke and began to rub his 
eyes ; but the lady ran her fingers over the chords of the lyre, 
and again he fell into a slumber and began to nod, and his staff 
to falter in his hand. "Now," said the lady, "touch his staff 
with the talismanic hand of jet." The child did so, and it fell 
from his grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep on the ottoman. 
The lady gently laid the silver lyre on the ottoman, leaning it 
against the head of the sleeping magician ; then touching the 
chords until they vibrated in his ear, — "0 potent spirit of 
harmony," said she, "continue thus to hold his senses in thral- 
dom till the return of day. Now follow me, my child," con- 
tinued she, " and thou shalt behold the Alhambra as it was in 
the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talisman that reveals 
all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady in silence 



298 THE ALHAMBEA 

They passed up through the entrance of the cavern into the 
barbican of the G-ate of Justice, and thence to the Plaza de los 
Algibes, or esplanade within the fortress. 

This was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, 
marshalled in squadrons, with banners displayed. There w^re 
royal guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks with 
drawn citneters. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed 
on fearlessly after her conductor. Her astonishment increased 
on entering the royal palace, in which she had been reared. 
The broad moonshine lit up all the halls and courts and gardens 
almost as brightly as if it were day, but revealed a far different 
scene from that to which she was accustomed. The walls of 
the apartments w^ere no longer stained and rent by time. In- 
stead of cobwebs, they were now hung with rich silks of 
Damascus, and the gildings and arabesque paintings were re- 
stored to their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls, no 
longer naked and unfurnished, were set out with divans and 
ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with pearls and 
studded with precious gems, and all the fountains in the courts 
and gardens were playing. 

The kitchens were again in full operation : cooks were busy 
preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling the phan- 
toms of pullets and partridges ; servants \vere hurrying to and 
fro with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and arranging a 
delicious banquet. The Court of Lions was thronged with 
guards, and courtiers; and alfaquis, as in the old times of the 
Moors ; and at the upper end, in the saloon of judgment, sat 
Boabdil on his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a 
shadowy sceptre for the night. Notwithstanding all this throng 
and seeming bustle, not a voice nor a footstep was to be heard ; 
nothing interrupted the midnight silence but' the splashing of 
the fountains. The little Sanchica followed her conductress in 
mute amazement about the palace, until they came to a portal 
opening to the vaulted passages beneath the great tower of 



THE MYRTLE WREATH 299 

Comares. On each side of the portal sat the figure of a nyinph, 
wrought out of alabaster. Their heads were turned aside, and 
their regards fixed upon the same spot within the vault. ' The 
enchanted lady paused, and beckoned the child to her. " Here," 
said she, " is a great secret, which I will reveal to thee in re- 
ward for thy faith and courage. These discreet statues watch 
over a treasure hidden in old times by a Moorish king. Tell 
thy fatlier to search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and 
he will find what will make him richer than any man in Granada. 
Thy innocent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also 
with tlie talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father 
use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to the performance of 
daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy enchantment." 
When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child on- 
ward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, which is hard by the 
vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the waters of 
the solitary fountain in the centre of the garden, and shed a 
tender light upon the orange and citron trees. The beautiful 
lady plucked a bi-anch of myrtle and wreathed it round the head 
of the child. "Let this be a memento," said she, " of what I 
have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. My hour 
is come ; I must return to the enchanted hall ; follow me not, 
lest evil befall thee ; — farewell. Remember what I have said' 
and have masses performed for my deliverance." So saying' 
the lady entered a dark passage leading beneath the tower of 
Comares, and was no longer seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages 
below the Alliambra, in the valley of the Darro, and a pale 
streak of light began to appear above the eastern mountains. 
A slight wind arose ; there was a sound like the rustling of dry 
leaves through the courts and corridors, and door after door shut 
to with a jarring sound. 

Sanchica returned to the scenes slie had so lately beheld 
thronged with the shadowy multitude, but Boabdil and his phan 



300 THE ALHAMBRA 

torn court were gone. The moon shone into empty halls and 
galleries stripped of their transient splendor, stained and dilapi- 
dated by time, and hung with cobwebs. The bat Hitted about 
in the uncertain light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote staircase 
that led up to the humble apartment occupied by her family. 
The door as usual was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to 
need bolt or bar ; she crept quietly to her pallet, and, putting 
the myrtle wreath beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to her 
father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as a mere 
dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. He went 
forth to his customary labors in the garden, but had not been 
there long when his little daughter came running to him almost 
breathless. " Father ! father ! " cried she, " behold the myrtle 
wreath which the Moorish lady bound round my head ! " 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of the 
myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling emerald ! 
Being not much accustomed to precious stones, he was ignorant 
of the real value of the wreath, but he saw enough to convince 
him that it was something more substantial than the stuff of 
which dreams are generally made, and that at any rate the child 
had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was to enjoin the 
most absolute secrecy upon his daughter ; in this respect, how- 
ever, he was secure, for she had discretion far beyond her years 
or sex. He then repaired to the vault, where stood the statues 
of the two alabaster nymphs. He remarked that their heads 
were turned from the portal, and that the regards of each were 
fixed upon the same point in the interior of the building. Lope 
Sanchez could not but admire this most discreet contrivance for 
guarding a secret. He drew a line from the eyes of the statues 
to the point of regard, made a private mark on the wall, and 
then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was distracted 



THE WELL-GUARDED SECRET 301 

with a thousand cares. He could not help hovering within dis- 
tant view of the two statues^ and became nervous from the 
dread that the golden secret might be discovered. Every foot- 
step that approached the place made him tremble. He would 
have given anything could he but have turned the heads of the 
statues, forgetting that they had looked precisely in the same 
direction for some hundreds of years, without any person being 
the wiser. 

"A plague upon them;" he would say to himself, " they'll be- 
tray all ; did ever mortal hear of such a mode of guarding a 
secret ? " Then on hearing any one advance, he would steal off, 
as though his very lurking near the place would awaken suspi- 
cion. Then he would return cautiously, and peep from a dis- 
tance to see if everything was secure, but the sight of the statues 
would again call forth his indignation. " Ay, there they stand," 
would he say, "always looking, and looking, and looking, just 
where they should not. Confound them ! they are just like all 
their sex ; if they have not tongues to tattle with, they'll be 
sure to do it with their eyes." 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a close. 
The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the echoing halls 
of the Alhambra; the last stranger passed the threshold, the 
great portal was barred and bolted, and the bat and the frog 
and the hooting owl gradually resumed their nightly vocations 
in the deserted palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far ad- 
vanced before he ventured with his little daughter to the hall 
of the two nymphs. He found them looking as knowingly and 
mysteriously as ever at the secret place of deposit. " By your 
leaves, gentle ladies," thought Lope Sanchez, as he passed be- 
tween them, " I will relieve you from this charge that must 
have set so heavy in your minds for the last two or three cen- 
turies." He accordingly went to work at the part of the wall 
which he had marked, and in a little while laid open a concealed 



302 THE ALHAMBRA 

recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He attempted 
to draw them forth, but they were immovable, until touched hy 
the innocent hand of his little daughter. With her aid he dis- 
lodged them from their niche, and found, to his great joy, that 
they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled with jewels 
and precious stones. Before daylight he managed to convey 
them to his chamber, and left the two guardian statues with 
their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man ; 
but riches, as usual, brought a world of cares to which he 
had hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away 
his wealth with safety ? How was he even to enter upon the 
enjoyment of it without awakening suspicion? Now, too, for 
the first time in his life the dread of robbers entered into his 
mind. He looked with terror at the insecurity of his habita- 
tion, and went to work to barricade the doors and windows ; 
yet after all his precautions he could not sleep soundly. His 
usual gayety was at an end, he had no longer a joke or a song 
for his neighbors, and, in short, became the most miserable 
animal in the Alhambra. His old comrades remarked this 
alteration, pitied him heartily, and began to desert him ; think- 
ing he must be falling into want, and in danger of looking to 
them for assistance. Little did they suspect that his only 
calamity was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety, but then she 
had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have mentioned 
that Lope, being rather a light inconsiderate little man, his 
wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the counsel 
and ministry of her confessor Fray Simon, a sturdy, broad- 
shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet-headed friar of the neighboring 
convent of San Francisco, who was in fact the spiritual com- 
forter of half the good wives of the neighborhood. He was 
moreover in great esteem among divers sisterhoods of nuns ; 
who requited him for his ghostly services by frequent presents 



A SPIRITUAL COUNSELLOR 303 

of those little dainties and knickknacks manufactured in con- 
vents, such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, and bottles 
of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous restoratives after fasts 
and vigils. 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. His 
oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill of 
the Alliambra on a sultry day. Yet notwithstanding his sleek 
condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed the aus- 
terity of his self-discipline ; the multitude doffed their caps to 
him as a mirror of piety, and even the dogs scented the odor 
of sanctity that exhaled from his garments, and howled from 
their kennels as he passed. 

Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the comely 
wife of Lope Sanchez; and as the father confessor is the 
domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain he was 
soon acquainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the hidden 
treasure. 

The friar opened his eyes and mouth, and crossed himself a 
dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, "Daughter 
of my soul !" said he, "know that thy husband has committed 
a double sin — a sin against both state and church ! The 
treasure he hath thus seized upon for himself, being found in 
the royal domains, belongs of course to the crown ; but being 
infidel wealth, rescued as it were from the very fangs of Satan, 
should be devoted to the church. Still, however, the matte? 
may be accommodated. Bring hither thy myrtle wreath." 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled more than 
ever with admiration of the size and beauty of the emeralds. 
" This," said he, " being the first-fruits of this discovery, should 
be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it up as a votive 
offering before the image of San Francisco in our chapel, and 
will earnestly pray to him, this very night, that your husband 
be permitted to remain in quiet possession of your wealth." 
The good dame was delighted to make her peace with 



304 THE ALHAMBRA 

Heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the wreath 
under his mantle, departed with saintly steps toward his 
convent. 

When Lope Sanchez carne home, his wife told him what had 
passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife's 
devotion, and had for some time groaned in secret at the 
domestic visitations of the friar. "Woman," said he, "what 
hast thou done? Thou hast put everything at hazard by thy 
tattling." 

" What ! " cried the good woman, " would you forbid my 
disburdening my conscience to my confessor 1 " 

" No, wife ! confess as many of your own sins as you please ; 
but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, and my 
conscience is very easy under the weight of it." 

There was no use, however, in complaining; the secret was 
told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be 
gathered. Their only chance was, that the friar would be 
discreet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there was an 
humble knocking at the door, and Fray Simon entered with 
meek and demure countenance. 

" Daughter," said he, "I have earnestly prayed to San 
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the 
night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning 
aspect. 'Why,' said he, 'dost thou pray to me to dispense 
with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou seest the poverty 
of my chapel 1 Go to the house of Lope Sanchez, crave in my 
name a portion of the Moorish gold, to furnish two candlesticks 
for the main altar, and let him possess the residue in peace.' " 

When the good woman heard of this vision, she crossed her- 
self with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope had 
hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with pieces 
of Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk 
bestowed upon her, in return, benedictions enough, if paid 



PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT 305 

by Heaven, to enrich her race to the latest posterity; then 
shpping the purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his 
hands upon his breast, and departed with an air of humble 
thankfulness. 

When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to the 
church, he had welluigh lost his senses. "Unfortunate man," 
cried he, " what will become of me ? I shall be robbed by 
piecemeal ; I shall be ruined and brought to beggary ! " 

^ It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could pacify 
him, by reminding him of the countless wealth that yet remained, 
and how considerate it was for San Francisco to rest contented 
with so small a portion. 

Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations to be 
provided for, not to mention some half-dozen sturdy bullet- 
headed orphan children and destitute foundlings that he had 
taken under his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from day 
to day, with solicitations on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint 
Andrew, Saint James, until poor Lope was driven to despair, 
and found that unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar,' 
he should have to take peace-offerings to every saint in the cal- 
endar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his remaining 
wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and make ojff to an- 
other part of the kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the purpose, 
and tethered it in a gloomy vault underneath the tower of the 
seven floors; the very place whence the Bdludo, or goblin horse, 
is said to issue forth at midnight, and scour the streets of Gra- 
nada, pursued by a pack of hell-hounds. Lope Sanchez had 
little faith in the story, but availed himself of the dread occa- 
sioned by it, knowing that no one would be likely to pry into 
the subterranean stable of the phantom steed. He sent off his 
family in the course of the day, with orders to wait for him at 
a distant village of the Vega. As the night advanced, he con- 
veyed his treasure to the vault under the tower, and having 



306 THE ALHAMBRA 

loaded his mule, he led it forth, and cautiously descended tht 
dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost secrecy, 
imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of his bosom. 
By some miraculous revelation, however, they became known to 
Fray Simon. The zealous friar beheld these infidel treasures 
on the point of slipping forever out of his grasp, and determined 
to have one more dash at them for the benefit of the church 
and San Francisco, Accordingly, when the bells had rung for 
aniraas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out of his con- 
vent, and descending through the Gate of Justice, concealed 
himself among the thickets of roses and laurels that border the 
great avenue. Here he remained, counting the quarters of 
hours as they were sounded on the bell of the watch-tower, and 
listening to the dreary hootings of owls, and the distant bark- 
ing of dogs from the gipsy caverns. 

At length he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through the 
gloom of the overshading trees, imperfectly beheld a steed de- 
scending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea of 
the knowing turn he was about to serve honest Lope. 

Tucking up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like a cat 
watching a mouse, he waited until his prey was directly before 
him, when darting forth from his leafy covert, and putting one 
hand on the shoulder and the other on the crupper, he made a 
vault that would not have disgraced the most experienced mas- 
ter of equitation, and alighted well-forked astride the steed. 
" Ah ha ! " said the sturdy friar, " we shall now see who best 
understands the game." He had scarce uttered the words when 
the mule began to kick, and rear, and plunge, and then set off 
full speed down the hill. The friar attempted to check him, 
but in vain. He bounded from rock to rock, and bush to bush; 
the friar's habit was torn to ribbons and fluttered in the wind, 
his shaven poll received many a hard knock from the branches 
of the trees, and many a scratch from the brambles. To add 



THE BEDEVILLED FRIAR 30?~ 

to his terror and distress, be found a pack of seven hounds in full 
cry at his heels, and perceived, too late, that he was actually 
mounted upon the terrible Belludo ! 

Away then they went, according to the ancient phrase, "pull 
aevil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza Nueva, 
along the Zacatin, around the Vivarrambla — never did hunts- 
man and hound make a more furious run, or more infernal up- 
roar. In vam did the friar invoke every saint in the calendar, 
and the holy Virgin into the bargain ; every time he mentioned a 
name of the kind it was like a fresh application of the spur, and 
made the Belludo bound as high as a house. Through the re- 
mainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon carried hither 
and thither, and whither he would not, until every bone in his 
body ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous to be 
mentioned. At length the crowing of a cock gave the signal of 
returning day. At the sound the goblin steed wheeled about, 
and galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the Vivar- 
rambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of fountains, 
the seven dogs yelling, and barking, and leaping up, and snapping 
at the heels of the terrified friar. The first streak of day had 
just appeared as they reached the tower ; here the goblin steed 
kicked up his heels, sent the friar a sunnnerset through the air, 
plunged into the dark vault followed by the infernal pack, and 
a profound silence succeeded to the late deafening clamor. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon a holy friar ? 
A peasant going to his labors at early dawn found the unfortu- 
nate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the tower, 
but so bruised and bedevilled that he could neither speak nor 
move. He was conveyed with all care and tenderness to his cell, 
and the story went that he had been waylaid and maltreated by 
robbers. A day or two elapsed before he recovered the use of 
his limbs ; he consoled himself, in the meantime, with the 
thoughts that though the mule with the treasure had escaped him, 
he had previously had some rare pickings at the infidel spoils 



308 THE ALHAMBRA 

His first care on being able to use his limbs, was to search be 
neath his pallet, where he had secreted the myrtle wreath and 
the leathern pouches of gold extracted from the piety of dame 
Sanchez, What was his dismay at finding the wreath, in eff'ect, 
but a withered branch of myrtle, and the leathern pouches fiUta 
with sand and gravel ! 

Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to hold his 
tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on him the ridicule 
of the public, and the punishment of his superior. It was not 
until many years afterwards, on his death-bed, that he revealed 
to his confessor his nocturnal ride on the Belludo. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after his 
disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory was always 
cherished as that of a merry companion, though it was feared, 
from the care and melancholy observed in his conduct shortly 
before his mysterious departure, that poverty and distress had 
driven him to some extremity. Some years afterwards one of 
his old companions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga, was 
knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The 
carriage stopped ; an old gentleman, magnificently dressed, with 
a bag-wig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor invalid. 
What was the astonishmentof the latter to behold in this grand 
cavalier his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actually celebrat- 
ing the marriage of his daughter Sanchica with one of the first 
grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There was dame 
Sanchez, now grown as round as a barrel, and dressed out with 
feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces of 
diamonds, and rings on every finger, altogether a finery of 
apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba. 
The little Sanchica had now grown to be a woman, and for 
grace and beauty might have been mistaken for a duchess, if not 
a princess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her — rather a 
withered spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved him to 



DON LOPE AND HIS FAMILY 309 

de of the true-blue blood ; a legitimate Spanish grandee being 
rarely above three cubits in stature. The match had been of 
the mother's making. 

Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He kept 
his old comrade with him for several days; feasted him like 
a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and at length sent 
him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money for himself, and 
another to be distributed among his ancient messmates of the 
Alhambra. 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in America 
and left him heir to a copper mine ; but the shrewd gossips of 
the Alhambra insist that his wealth was all derived from his 
having discovered the secret guarded by the two marble nymphs 
of the Alhambra. It is remarked that these very discreet 
statues continue, even unto the present day, with their eyes 
fixed most significantly on the same part of the wall ; which 
leads many to suppose there is still some hidden treasure re- 
maining there well worthy the attention of the enterprising 
traveller. Though others, and particularly all female visitors, 
regard them with great complacency as lasting monuments of 
the fact that women can keep a secret. 



THE CRUSADE OF THE GRAND MASTER OF 
ALCANTARA 

In the course of a morning's research among the old chronicles 
in the Library of the University, I came upon a little episode 
in the history of Granada, so strongly characteristic of the 
bigot zeal which sometimes inflamed the Christian enterprises 
against this splendid but devoted city, that I was tempted to 
draw it forth from the parchment-bound volume in which it 
lay entombed, and submit it to the reader. 

In the year of redemption, 1394, there was a valiant and 



310 THE ALHAMBRA 

devout grand master of Alcantara, named Martin Yanez de 
Barbudo, who was inflamed with a vehement desire to serve 
God and fight the Moors. Unfortunately for this brave and 
pious cavalier, a profound peace existed between the Christian 
and Moslem powers. Henry III. had just ascended the throne 
of Castile, and Yusef ben Mohammed had succeeded to the 
throne of Granada, and both were disposed to continue the 
peace which had prevailed between their fathers. The grand 
master looked with repining at Moorish banners and weapons, 
which decorated his castle hall, trophies of the exploits of his 
predecessors ; and repined at his fate to exist in a period of 
such inglorious tranquillity. 

At length his impatience broke through all bounds, and 
seeing that he could find no public war in which to engage, 
he resolved to carve out a little war for himself. Such at least 
is the account given by some ancient chronicles, though others 
give the following as the motive for this sudden resolution to 
go campaigning. 

As the grand master was one day seated at table with several 
of his cavaliers, a man suddenly entered the hall, — tall, meagie, 
and bony, with haggard countenance and fiery eye. All recog- 
nized him for a hermit, who had been a soldier in his youth, 
but now led a life of penitence in a cave. He advanced to the 
table and struck upon it with a fist that seemed of iron. 
"Cavaliers," said he, "why sit ye here idly, with your weapons 
resting against the wall, while the enemies of the faith lord it 
over the fairest portion of the land 1 " 

"Holy father, what wouldst thou have us do? "asked the 
grand master, "seeing the wars are over and our swords bound 
up by treaties of peace 1 " 

"Listen to my words," replied the hermit. "As I was 
seated late at night at the entrance of my cave, contemplating 
the heavens, I fell into a reverie, and a wonderful vision was 
presented to me. I beheld the moon, a mere crescent, yet 



THE AMBASSADORS 311 

iuminous as the brightest silver, and it hung in the heaven, 
over the kingdom of Granada. While I was looking at iti 
behold there shot forth from the firmament a blazing star 
which, as it went, drew after it all the stars of heaven ; and 
they assailed the moon and drove it from the skies ; and the 
whole firmament was filled with the glory of that blazing star. 
While mine eyes were yet dazzled by this wondrous sight, some 
one stood by me with snowy wings and a shining countenance. 
'Oh man of prayer,' said he, 'get thee to the grand master of 
Alcantara and tell him of the vision thou hast beheld. He is 
the blazing star, destined to drive the crescent, the Moslem 
emblem, from the land. Let him boldly draw the sword and 
continue the good work begun by Pelazo of old, and victory 
will assuredly attend his banner.'" 

The grand master listened to the hermit as to a messenger 
from heaven, and followed his counsel in all things. By his 
advice he dispatched two of his stoutest warriors, armed cap-a-pie, 
on an embassy to the Moorish king. They entered the gates of 
Granada without molestation, as the nations were at peace ; and 
made their way to the Alhambra, where they were promptly 
admitted to the king, who received them in the Hall of Ambas- 
sadors. They delivered their message roundly and hardly. 
"We come, King, from Don Martin Yanez de Barbudo, grand 
master of Alcantara ; who affirms the faith of Jesus Christ to 
be true and holy, and that of Mahomet false and detestable, 
and he challenges thee to maintain the contrary, hand to hand' 
in single combat. Shouldst thou refuse, he off'ers to combat 
with one hundred cavaliers against two hundred; or, in like 
proportion, to the number of one thousand, always allowing thy 
faith a double number of champions. Remember, King, that 
thou canst not refuse this challenge; since thy prophet, knowing 
the impossibility of maintaining his doctrines by argument, has 
commanded his followers to enforce them with the sword." 
The beard of king Yusef trembled with indignation. " The 



312 THE ALHAMBRA 

master of Alcantara," said he, " is a madman to send such a 
message, and ye are saucy knaves to bring it," 

So saying, he ordered the ambassadors to be thrown into a 
dungeon, by way of giving them a lesson in diplomacy ; and 
they were roughly treated on their way thither by the populace, 
who were exasperated at this insult to their sovereign and their 
faith. 

The grand master of Alcantara could scarcely credit the tidings 
of the maltreatment of his messengers ; but the hermit rejoiced 
when they were repeated to him. " God," said he, " has blinded 
this infidel king for his downfall. Since he has sent no reply 
to thy defiance, consider it accepted. Marshal thy forces, there- 
fore; march forward to Granada; pause not until thou seest 
the gate of Elvira. A miracle will be wrought in thy favor. 
There will be a great battle ; the enemy will be overthrown ; 
but not one of thy soldiers will be slain." 

The grand master called upon every warrior zealous in the 
Christian cause to aid him in this crusade. In a little while 
three hundred horsemen and a thousand foot-soldiers rallied 
under his standard. The horsemen were veterans, seasoned to 
battle and well armed ; but the infantry were raw and undisci- 
plined. The victory, however, was to be miraculous ; the grand 
master was a man of surpassing faith, and knew that the weaker 
the means the greater the miracle. He sallied forth confidently, 
therefore, with his little army, and the hermit strode ahead, 
bearing a cross on the end of a long pole, and beneath it the 
pennon of the order of Alcantara. 

As they approached the city of Cordova they were overtaken 
by messengers, spurring in all haste, bearing missives from the 
Castilian monarch, forbidding the enterprise. The grand master 
was a man of a single mind and a single will ; in other words, 
a man of one idea. " Were I on any other errand," said he, "I 
should obey these letters as coming from my lord the king ; but 
I am sent by a higher power than the king. In compliance 



EXPOSTULATIONS 313 

with its commands I have advanced the cross thus far against 
the infidels ; and it would be treason to the standard of Christ 
to turn back without achieving my errand." 

So the trumpets were sounded ; the cross was again reared 
aloft, and the band of zealots resumed their march. As they 
passed through the streets of Cordova the people were amazed 
at beholding a hermit bearing a cross at the head of a warlike 
multitude ; but when they learnt that a miraculous victory was 
to be effected and Granada destroyed, laborers and artisans threw 
by the implements of their handicrafts and joined in the crusade j 
while a mercenary rabble followed on with a view of plunder. 

A number of cavaliers of rank who lacked faith in the prom- 
ised miracle, and dreaded the consequences of this unprovoked 
irruption into the country of the Moor, assembled at the bridge 
of the Guadalquivir and endeavored to dissuade the grand master 
from crossing. He was deaf to prayers, expostulations, or men- 
aces ; his followers were enraged at this opposition to the cause 
of the faith \ they put an end to the parley by their clamors ; 
the cross was again reared and borne triumphantly across the 
bridge. 

The multitude increased as it proceeded ; by the time the 
grand master had reached Alcala la Real, which stands on a 
mountain overlooking the Vega of Granada, upwards of five 
thousand men on foot had joined his standard. 

At Alcala came forth Alonzo Fernandez de Cordova, Lord of 
Aguilar, his brother Diego Fernandez, Marshal of Castile, and 
other cavaliers of valor and experience. Placing themselves in 
the way of the grand master, " What madness is this, Don 
Martin?" said they; "the Moorish king has tw^o hundred thou- 
sand foot-soldiers and five thousand horse within his walls ; what 
can you and your handful of cavaliers and your noisy rabble do 
against such force ? Bethink you of the disasters which have 
befallen other Christian commanders, who have crossed these 
rocky borders with ten times your force. Think, too, of the 



314 THE ALHAMBRA 

mischief that will be brought upon tliis kingdom by an outrage 
of tlie kind committed by a man of your rank and importance, a 
grand master of Alcantara. Pause, we entreat you, while the 
truce is yet unbroken. Await within the borders the reply of the 
king of Granada to your challenge. If he agree to meet you 
singly, or with ciiampions two or three, it will be your individual 
contest, and fight it out in God's name; if he refuse, you may 
return home with great honor and the disgrace will fall upon 
the Moors." 

Several cavaliers, who had hitherto followed the grand mas- 
ter with devoted zeal, were moved by these expostulations, 
and suggested to him the policy of listening to this advice. 

" Cavaliers," said he, addressing himself to Alonzo Fernandez 
de Cordova and his companions, " I thank you for the counsel 
you have so kindly bestowed upon me, and if I were merely in 
pursuit of individual glory I might be swayed by it. But I 
am engaged to achieve a great triumph of the faith, which God 
is to effect by miracle through my means. As to you, cavaliers," 
turning to those of his followers who had wavered, "if your 
hearts fail you, or you repent of having put your hands to this 
good work, return, in God's name, and my blessing go with you. 
For myself, though I have none to stand by me but this holy her- 
mit, yet will I assuredly proceed; until I have planted this sacred 
standard on the walls of Granada, or perislied in the attempt." 

"Don Martin Yanez de Barbudo," replied the cavaliers, "we 
are not men to turn our backs upon our commander, however 
rash his enterprise. We spoke but in caution. Lead on, there- 
fore, and if it be to the death, be assured to the death we will 
follow thee." 

By this time the common soldiers became impatient. " For- 
ward ! forward ! " shouted they. " Forward in the cause of 
faith." So the grand master gave signal, the hermit again 
reared the cross aloft, and they poured down a defile of the 
mountain, with solemn chants of triumph. 



THE BATTLE 315 

That night they encamped at the river of Azores, and the 
next morning, which was Sunday, crossed the borders. Their 
tirst pause was at an atalaya or solitary tower, built upon a 
rock ; a frontier post to keep a watch upon the border, and 
give notice of invasion. It was thence called el Torre del Exea 
(the tower of the spy). The grand master halted before it and 
summoned its petty garrison to surrender. He was answered 
by a shower of stones and arrows, which wounded him in the 
hand and killed three of his men. 

" How is this, father ? " said he to the hermit ; " you assured 
me that not one of ray followers would be slain ! " 

" True, my son, but I meant in the great battle of the infidel 
king ; what need is there of miracle to aid in the capture of a 
petty tower 1 " 

The grand master was satisfied. He ordered wood to be 
piled against the door of the tower to burn it down. In the 
meantime provisions were unloaded from the sumpter-mules, 
and the crusaders, withdrawing beyond bowshot, sat down on 
the grass to a repast to strengthen them for the arduous day's 
work before them. While thus engaged, they were startled by 
the sudden appearance of a great Moorish host. The atalayas 
had given the alarm by fire and smoke from the mountain-tops 
of *'an enemy across the border," and the king of Granada had 
sallied forth with a great force to the encounter. 

The crusaders, nearly taken by surprise, flew to arms and 
prepared for battle. The grand master ordered his three hun- 
dred horsemen to dismount and fight on foot in support of the 
infantry. The Moors, however, charged so suddenly that they 
separated the cavaliers from the foot-soldiers and prevented 
their uniting. The grand master gave the old war-cry, *' San- 
tiago ! Santiago ! and close Spain ! " He and his knights 
breasted the fury of the battle, but were surrounded by a 
cDuntless host and assailed with arrows, stones, darts, and 
arquebuses. Still they fought fearlessly, and made prodigious 



316 THE ALHAMBRA 

slaughter. The hermit mingled in the hottest of the fight. In 
one hand he bore the cross, in the other he brandished a sword, 
with which he dealt about him like a maniac, slaying several of 
the enemy, until he sank to the ground covered with wounds. 
The grand master saw him fall, and saw loo late the fallacy of 
his prophecies. Despair, however, only made him fight the 
more fiercely, until he also fell overpowered by numbers. His 
devoted cavaliers emulated his holy zeal. Not one turned his 
back nor asked for mercy ; all fought until they fell. As to 
the foot-soldiers, many were killed, many taken prisoners ; the 
residue escaped to Alcala la Real. When the Moors came to 
strip the slain, the wounds of the cavaliers were all found to be 
in front. 

Such was the catastrophe of this fanatic enterprise. The 
Moors vaunted it as a decisive proof of the superior sanctity of 
their ftxith, and extolled their king to the skies when he re- 
turned in triumph to Granada. 

As it was satisfactorily shown that this crusade was the 
enterprise of an individual, and contrary to the express orders 
of the king of Oastile, the peace of the two kingdoms was not 
interrupted. Nay, the Moors evinced a feeling of respect for 
the valor of the unfortunate grand master, and readily gave up 
his body to Don Alonzo Fernandez de Cordova, who came from 
Alcala to seek it. The Christians of the frontier united in pay- 
ing the last sad honors to his memory. His body was placed 
upon a bier, covered with the pennon of the order of Alcantara ; 
and the broken cross, the emblem of his confident hopes and 
fa;tal disappointment, was borne before it. In this way his 
remains were carried back in funeral procession, through the 
mountain tract which he had traversed so resolutely. Where- 
ever it passed, through a town or village, the populace followed 
with tears and lamentations, bew^ailing" him as a valiant knight 
and a martyr to the faith. His body was interred in the 
chapel of the convent of Santa Maria de Almocovara, and on 



THE EPITAPH 317 

his sepulchre may still be seen engraven in quaint and antique 
Spanish the following testimonial to his bravery : — 

HERE LIES ONE WHOSE HEART NEVER KNEW FEAR. 
(Aqui yaz aquel que par neua cosa nunca eve pavor en seu corazou.)i 

1 Torres. Hist. Ord. Alcantara. Cron. Enrique HI. per Pedro Lopez 
de Ayalac 

SPANISH ROMANCE 

In the latter part of my sojourn in the Alhambra, I made 
frequent descents into the Jesuit's Library of the University ; 
and -relished more and more the old Spanish chronicles, which 
I found there bound in parchment. I delight in those quaint 
histories which treat of the times when the Moslems maintained 
a foothold in the Peninsula. With all their bigotry and occa- 
sional intolerance, they are full of noble acts and generous sen- 
timents, and have a high, spicy, oriental flavor, not to be found 
in other records of the times, which were merely European. In 
fact, Spain, even at the present day, is a country ai)art ; severed 
in history, habits, manners, and modes of thinking, from all the 
rest of Europe. It is a romantic country ; but its romance has 
none of the sentimentality of modern European romance ; it is 
chiefly derived from the brilliant regions of the East, and from 
the high-minded school of Saracenic chivalry. 

The Arab invasion and conquest brought a higher civilization, 
and a nobler style of thinking, into Gothic Spain. The Arabs 
were quick-witted, sagacious, proud-spirited, and poetical people, 
and were imbued with oriental science and literature. Wher- 
ever they established a seat of power, it became a rallying-place 
for the learned and ingenious ; and they softened and refined 
the people whom they conquered. By degrees, occupancy 
seemed to give them an hereditary right to their foothold in 



318 THE ALHAMBRa 

the land ; they ceased to be looked upon as invaders, and were 
regarded as rival neighbors. The Peninsula, broken up into a 
variety of states, both Christian and Moslem, became, for cen- 
turies, a great campaigning-ground, where the art of war 
seemed to be the principal business of man, and was carried to 
the highest pitch of romantic chivalry. The original ground of 
hostility, a difference of faith, gradually lost its rancor. Neigh- 
boring states, of opposite creeds, were occasionally linked to- 
gether in alliances, offensive and defensive ; so that the cross 
and crescent were to be seen side by side, fighting against some 
common enemy. In times of peace, too, the noble youth of 
either faith resorted to the same cities, Christian or Moslem, to 
school tliemselves in military science. Even in the temporary 
truces of sanguinary wars, the warriors who had recently striven 
together in the deadly conflicts of the field, laid aside their 
animosity, met at tournaments, jousts, and other military fes- 
tivities, and exchanged the courtesies of gentle and generous 
spirits. Thus the opposite races became frequently mingled 
together in peaceful intercourse, or if any rivalry took pla^3, it 
was in those high courtesies and nobler acts, which bespeak the 
accomplished cavalier. Warriors, of opposite creeds, became 
ambitious of transcending each other in magnanimity as well as 
valor. Indeed, the chivalric virtues were refined upon to a 
degree sometimes fastidious and constrained, but at other times 
inexpressibly noble and aftecting. The annals of the times 
teem with illustrious instances of high-wrought courtesy, roman- 
tic generosity, lofty disinterestedness, and punctilious honor, 
that warm the very soul to read them. These have furnished 
themes for national plays and poems, or have been celebrated 
in those all-pervading ballads, which are as the life-breath of 
the people, and thus have continued to exercise an influence on 
the national character, which centuries of vicissitude and decline 
have not been able to destroy; so that, with all their faults, 
and they are many, the Spaniards, even at the present day, are, 



SPAmSH ROMANCE 319 

on many points, the most high-minded and proud-spirited 
people of Europe. It is true, the romance of feeling derived 
from the sources I have mentioned, has, like all other romance, 
its affectations and extremes. It renders the Spaniard at times 
pompous and grandiloquent; prone to carry the "pundonor," 
or point of honor, beyond the bounds of sober sense and sound 
morality; disposed, in the midst of poverty, to affect the 
"grande caballero," and to look down with sovereign disdain 
upon " arts mechanical," and all the gainful pursuits of plebeian 
life; but this very inflation of spirit, while it fills his brain 
with vapors, lifts him above a thousand meannesses ; and 
though it often keeps him in indigence, ever protects him from 
vulgarity. 

In the present day, when popular literature is running into 
the low levels of life, and luxuriating on the vices and follies of 
mankind ; and when the universal pursuit of gain is trampling 
down the early growth of poetic feeling, and wearing out the 
verdure of the soul, I question whether it would not be of service 
for the reader occasionally to turn to these records of prouder 
times and loftier modes of thinking ; and to steep himself to the 
very lips in old Spanish romance. 

With these preliminary suggestions, the fruit of a morning's 
reading and rumination in the old Jesuit's Library of the Uni- 
versity, I will give him a legend in point, drawn forth from one 
of the venerable chronicles alluded to. 



LEGEND OF DON MUNIO SANOHO DE HINOJOSA 

In the cloisters of the ancient Benedictine convent of San 
Domingo, at Silos, in Castile, are the mouldering yet magnifi- 
cent monuments of the once powerful and chivalrous family of 
Hinojosa. Among these reclines the marble figure of a knight, 
in complete armor, with the hands pressed together, as if in 



320 THE ALHAMBRA 

prayer. On one side of his tomb is sculptured in relief a band 
of Christian cavaliers, capturing a cavalcade of male and female 
Moors; on the other side, the same cavaliers are represented 
kneeling before an altar. The tomb, like most of the neighbor- 
ing monuments, is almost in ruins, and the sculpture is nearly 
unintelligible, excepting to the keen eye of the antiquary. The 
story connected with the sepulchre, however, is still preserved 
in the old Spanish chronicles, and is to the following purport. 

In old times several hundred years ago, there was a noble 
Castilian cavalier, named Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, lord 
of a border castle, which had stood the brunt of many a Moorish 
foray. He had seventy horsemen as his household troops, all of 
the ancient Castilian proof; stark w^arriors, hard riders, and 
men of iron; with these he scoured the Moorish lands, and 
made his name terrible throughout the borders. His castle- 
hall was covered with banners, cimeters, and Moslem helms, 
the trophies of his prowess. Don Munio was, moreover, a keen 
huntsman ; and rejoiced in hounds of all kinds, steeds for the 
chase, and hawks for the towering sport of falconry. When not 
engaged in warfare his delight was to beat up the neighboring 
forests ; and scarcely ever did he ride forth without hound and 
horn, a boar-spear in his hand, or a hawk upon his fist, and an 
attendant train of huntsmen. 

His wife. Dona Maria Palacin, was of a gentle and timid 
nature, little fitted to be the spouse of so hardy and adventurous 
a knight ; and many a tear did the poor lady shed, when he 
sallied forth upon his daring enterprises, and many a prayer did 
she offer up for his safety. 

As this doughty cavalier was one day hunting, he stationed 
himself in a thicket, on the borders of a green glade of the 
forest, and dispersed his followers to rouse the game, and drive 
it toward his stand. He had not been here long, when a caval- 
cade of MoorSj of both sexes, came prankling over the forest 



SPANISH COURTESY 321 

lawn. They were unarmed, and magnificently dressed in robes 
of tissue and embroidery, rich shawls of India, bracelets and 
anklets of gold, and jewels that sparkled in the sun. 

At the head of this gay cavalcade rode a youthful cavalier, 
superior to the rest in dignity and loftiness of demeanor, and in 
splendor of attire ; beside him was a damsel, whose veil, blown 
aside by the breeze, displayed a face of surpassing beauty, and 
eyes cast down in maiden modesty, yet beaming with tenderness 
and joy. 

Don Munio thanked his stars for sending him such a prize, 
and exulted at the thought of bearing home to his wife the 
glittering spoils of these infidels. Putting his hunting-horn to 
his lips, he gave a blast that rung through the forest. His 
huntsmen came running from all quarters, and the astonished 
Moors were surrounded and made captives. 

The beautiful Moor wrung her hands in despair, and her 
female attendants uttered the most piercing cries. The young 
Moorish cavalier alone retained self-possession. He inquired the 
name of the Christian knight who commanded this troop of 
horsemen. When told that it was Don Munio Sancho de 
Hinojosa, his coui)tenance lighted up. Approaching that cava- 
lier, and kissing his hand, "Don Munio Sancho," said he, "I 
have heard of your fame as a true and valiant knight, terrible 
in arms, but schooled in the noble virtues of chivalry. Such 
do I trust to find you. In me you behold Abadil, son of a 
Moorish alcayde. I am on the way to celebrate my nuptials 
with this lady; chance has thrown us in your power, but I 
confide in your magnanimity. Take all our treasure and jewels ; 
demand what ransom you think proper for our persons, but 
suff'er us not to be insulted nor dishonored." 

When the good knight heard this appeal, and beheld the 
beauty of the youthful pair, his heart was touched with ten- 
derness and courtesy. "God forbid," said he, "that I should 
disturb such happy nuptials. My prisoners in troth shall ye 



322 THE ALHAMBRA 

be, for fifteen days, and immured within my castle, where 1 
claim, as conqueror, the right of celebrating youi" espousals." 

So saying, he dispatched one of his fleetest horsemen in ad- 
vance, to notify Dona Maria Palacin of the coming of this bridal 
party ; while he and his huntsmen escorted the cavalcade, not 
as captors, but as a guard of honor. As they drew near to the 
castle, the banners were hung out, and the trumpets sounded 
from the battlements ; and on their nearer approach, the draw- 
bridge was lowered, and Doiia Maria came forth to meet them, 
attended by her ladies and knights, her pages and her minstrels. 
She took the young bride, Allifra, ia her arms, kissed her with 
the tenderness of a sister, and conducted her into the castle. 
In the meantime, Don Munio sent forth missives in every direc- 
tion, and had viands and dainties of all kinds collected from the 
country round ; and the wedding of the Moorish lovers was 
celebrated with all possible state and festivity. For fifteen days 
the castle was given up to joy and revelry. There were tiltings 
and jousts at the ring, and bull-fights, and banquets, and dances 
to the sound of minstrelsy. When the fifteen days were at an 
end, he made the bride and bridegroom magnificent presents, 
and conducted them and their attendants safely beyond the 
borders. Such, in old times, were the courtesy and generosity 
of a Spanish cavalier. 

Several years after this event, tlie king of Castile summoned 
his nobles to assist him in a campaign against the Moors. Don 
Munio Sancho was among the first to answer to the call, with 
seventy horsemen, all stanch and well-tried warriors. His wife, 
Dona Maria, hung about his neck. " Alas, my lord ! " exclaimed 
she, " how often wilt thou tempt thy fate, and when will thy 
thirst for glory be appeased ! " 

"One battle more," replied Don Munio, "one battle more, 
for the honor of Castile, and I here make a vow, that when 
this is over, I will lay by my sword, and repair with my cava- 
liers in pilgrimage to the sepulclire of our Lord at Jerusalem." 



THE MOURNING VICTOH 323 

The cavaliers all joined with him in the vow, and Dona Maria 
felt in some degree soothed in spirit ; still, »he saw with a heavy 
heart the departure of her husband, and watched his banner 
with wistful eyes, until it disappeared among the trees of the 
forest. 

The king of Castile led his army to the plains of Almanara, 
where they encountered the Moorish host, near to Ucles. The 
battle was long and bloody ; the Christians repeatedly wavered 
and were as often rallied by the energy of their commanders. 
Don Munio was covered with wounds, but refused to leave the 
field. The Christians at length gave way, and the king was 
hardly pressed, and in danger of being captured. 

Don Munio called upon his cavaliers to follow him to the 
rescue. "Now is the time," cried he, "to prove your loyalty. 
Fall to, like brave men ! We fight for the true faith, and if 
we lose our lives here, we gain a better life hereafter." 

Rushing with his men between the king and his pursuers, 
they checked the latter in their career, and gave time for their 
monarch to escape ; but they fell victims to their loyalty. They 
all fought to the last gasp, Don Munio was singled out by a 
powerful Moorish knight, but having been wounded in the right 
arm, he fought to disadvantage, and was slain. The battle 
being over, the Moor paused to possess himself of the spoils of 
this redoubtable Christian warrior. "When he unlaced the hel- 
met, however, and beheld the countenance of Don Munio, he 
gave a great cry and smote his breast. " Woe is me ! " cried 
he, " I have slain my benefactor ! The flower of knightly vir- 
tue ! the most magnanimous of cavaliers ! " 

While the battle had been raging on the plain of Salmanara, 
Dona Maria Palacin remained in her castle, a prey to the keen- 
est anxiety. Her eyes were ever fixed on the road that led 
from the country of the Moors, and often she asked the watch 
man of the tower, "What seest thou?" 



324 THE ALHAMBRA 

One evening, at the shadowy hour of twilight, the warden 
sounded his horn. ' • I see," cried he, " a numerous train winding 
up the valley. There are mingled Moors and Christians. The 
banner of my lord is in the advance. Joyful tidings ! " exclaimed 
the old seneschal ; " my lord returns in triumph, and brings 
captives ! " Then the castle courts rang with shouts of joy ; 
and the standard was displayed, and the trumpets were sounded, 
and the drawbridge was lowered, and Dona Maria went forth 
with her ladies, and her knights, and her pages, and her min- 
strels, to welcome her lord from the wars. But as the train 
drew nigh, she beheld a sumptuous bier, covered with black 
velvet, and on it lay a warrior, as if taking his repose : he lay 
in his armor, with his helmet on his head, and his sword in his 
hand, as one who had never been conquered, and around the bier 
were the escutcheons of the house of Hinojosa. 

A number of Moorish cavaliers attended the bier, with em- 
blems of mourning, and with dejected countenances ; and their 
leader cast himself at the feet of Dona Maria, and hid his face 
in his hands. She beheld in him the gallant Abadil, whom 
she had once welcomed with his bride to her castle ; but who 
now came with the body of the lord, whom he had unknowingly 
slain in battle ! 

The sepulchre erected in the cloisters of the convent of San 
Domingo, was achieved at the expense of the Moor Abadil, as 
a feeble testimony of his grief for the death of the good knight 
Don Munio, and his reverence for his memory. The tender and 
faithful Dona Maria soon followed her lord to the tomb. On 
one of the stones of a small arch, beside his sepulchre, is the 
following simple inscription : " Hie jacet Maria Palacin, uxor 
Munonis Sancij De Finojosa;'' — (Here lies Maria Palacin, 
wife of Munio Sancho de Hinojosa). 

The legend of Don Munio Sancho does not conclude with his 
death. On the same day on which the battle took place on the 



THE PHANTOM PILGRIMAGE 323 

plain of Salraanara, a chaplain of the Holy Temple at Jerusalem, 
while standing at the outer gate, beheld a train of Christian 
cavaliers advancing, as if in pilgrimage. The chaplain was a 
native of Spain, and as the pilgrims approached, he knew the 
foremost to be Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, with whom he 
had been well acquainted in former times. Hastening to the 
patriarch, he told him of the honorable rank of the pilgrims at 
the gate. The patriarch, therefore, went forth with a grand 
procession of priests and monks, and received the pilgrims with 
all due honor. There were seventy cavaliers beside their leader, 
— all stark and lofty warriors. They carried their helmets in 
their hands, and their faces were deadly pale. They greeted no 
one, nor looked either to the right or to the left, but entered 
the chapel, and kneeling before the sepulchre of our Saviour, 
performed their orisons in silence. When they had concluded, 
they rose as if to depart, and the patriarch and his attendants 
advanced to speak to them, but they were no more to be seen. 
Every one marvelled what could be the meaning of this prodigy. 
The patriarch carefully noted down the day, and sent to Castile 
to learn tidings of Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa. He re- 
ceived for reply, that on the very day specified, that worthy 
knight, with seventy of his followers, had been slain in battle. 
These,' therefore, must have been the blessed spirits of those 
Christian warriors, come to fulfil their vow of pilgrimage to the 
Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. Such was Castilian faith in the 
olden time, which kept its word, even beyond the grave. 

If any one should doubt of the miraculous apparition of these 
phantom knights, let him consult the History of the Kings of 
Castile and Leon, by the learned and pious Fray Prudencio de 
Sandoval, bishop of Pamplona, where he will find it recorded in 
the History of King Don Alonzo VI., on the hundred and second 
page. It is too precious a legend to be lightly abandoned to 
the doubter. 



326 THE ALHAMBRA 



POETS AND POETRY OF MOSLEM ANDALUS 

During the latter part of my sojourn in the Alhambra I was 
more than once visited by the Moor of Tetuan, with whom I took 
great pleasure in rambling through the halls and courts, and 
getting him to explain to me the Arabic inscriptions. He en- 
deavored to do so faithfully; but, though he succeeded in giv- 
ing me the thought, he despaired of imparting an idea of the 
grace and beauty of the language. The aroma of the poetry, 
said he, is all lost in translation. Enough was imparted, how- 
ever, to increase the stock of my delightful associations with 
this extraordinary pile. Perhaps there never was a monument 
more characteristic of an age and people than the Alhambra ; a 
rugged fortress without, a voluptuous palace within; war frown- 
ing from its battlements ; poetry breathing throughout the fairy 
architecture of its halls. One is irresistibly transported in 
imagination to those times when Moslem Spain was a region of 
light amid Christian, yet benighted Europe; externally a warrior 
power fighting for existence ; internally a realm devoted to liter- 
ature, science, and the arts ; where philosophy was cultivated 
with passion, though wrought up into subtleties and refinement ; 
and where the luxuries of sense were transcended by those of 
thought and imagination. 

Arab poetry, we are told, arrived at its highest splendor 
under the Ommiades of Spain, who for a long time centred the 
power and splendor of the Western Caliphat at Cordova. Most 
of the sovereigns of that brilliant line were themselves poets. 
One of the last of them was Mahomed ben Abderahman. He 
led the life of a sybarite in the famous palace and gardens of 
Azahara, surrounding himself with all that could excite the 
imagination and delight the senses. His palace was the resort 
of poets. His vizier, Ibn Zeydun, was called the Horace of 
Moslem Spain, from his exquisite verses, which were recited 



ENCOURAGEMENT OF LITERATURE 327 

with enthusiasm even in the saloons of the Eastern Caliphs. 
The vizier became passionately enamoured of the princess Walada, 
(laughter of Mahomed. She was the idol of her father's court, 
a poetess of the highest order, and renowned for beauty as well 
as talent. If Ibn Zeydun was the Horace of Moslem Spain, she 
was its Sappho. The princess became the subject of the vizier's 
most impassioned ' verses ; especially of a famous risaleh or 
epistle addressed to her, which the historian Ash-Shakandi de- 
clares has never been equalled for tenderness and melancholy. 
Whether the poet was happy in his love, the authors I have 
consulted do not say ; but one intimates that the princess was 
discreet as she was beautiful, and caused many a lover to sigh 
in vain. In fact, the reign of love and poetry in the delicious 
abode of Zahara, was soon brought to a close by a popular in- 
sui-rection. Mahomed with his family took refuge in the for- 
tress of Ucles, near Toledo, where he was treacherously poisoned 
by the Alcayde; and thus perished one of the last of the 
Ommiades. 

The downfall of that brilliant dynasty, which had concen- 
trated everything at Cordova, was favorable to the general 
literature of Morisco Spain. 

" After the breaking of the necklace and the scattermg of its 
pearls," says Ash-Shakandi, "the kings of small states divided 
among themselves the patrimony of the Beni Ommiah." 

They vied with each other in filling their capitals with poets 
and learned men, and rewarded them with boundless prodigality 
Such were the Moorish kings of Seville of the illustrious Ime 
of the Beni Abbad, "with whom," says the same writer, "re- 
sided fruit and palm-trees and pomegranates ; who became the 
centre of eloquence in prose and verse ; every day of whose 
reign was a solemn festivity ; whose history abounds m gener- 
ous actions and heroic deeds, that will last through surrounding 
ages and live forever in the memory of man ! " 

No place, however, profited more in print of civilization and 



828 THE ALHAMBRA 

refinement by the downfall of the Western Caliphat than Gra 
nada. It succeeded to Cordova in splendor, while it surpassed 
it in romantic beauty of situation. The amenity of its climate, 
where the ardent heats of a southern summer were tempered by 
breezes from snow-clad mountains ; the voluptuous repose of its 
valleys and the bosky luxuriance of its groves and gardens, all 
awakened sensations of delight, and disposed the mind to love 
and poetry. Hence the great number of amatory poets that 
flourished in Granada. Hence those amorous canticles breath- 
ing of love and war, and wreathing chivalrous grace round the 
stern exercise of arms. Those ballads which still form the pride 
and delight of Spanish literature are but the echoes of amatory 
and chivalric lays, which once delighted the Moslem courts of 
Andalus ; and in which a modern historian of Granada pre- 
tends to find the origin of the rima Gastellana and the type of 
the " gay science " of the troubadours.^ 

Poetry was cultivated in Granada by both sexes. "Had 
Allah," says Ash-Shakandi, " bestowed no other boon on Gra- 
nada than that of making it the birthplace of so many poet- 
esses, that alone would be sufficient for its glory." 

Among the most famous of these was Hafsah ; renowned, 
says the old chronicler, for beauty, talents, nobility, and wealth. 
We have a mere relic of her poetry in some verses, addressed to 
her lover, Ahmed, recalling an evening passed together in the 
garden of Maumal, 

" Allah has given us a happy night, such as he never vouch- 
safes to the wicked and the ignoble. We have beheld the cy- 
presses of Maumal gently bowing their heads before the mountain 
breeze, — the sweet perfumed breeze that smelt of gillyflowers ; 
the dove murmured her love among the trees ; the sweet basil 
inclined its boughs to the limpid brook." 

The garden of Maumal was famous among the Moors for its 
rivulets, its fountains, its flowers, and above all, its cypresses. 
It had its name from a vizier of Abdallah, grandson of Aben 



THE GARDEN OF MAUMAL 329 

Habuz, and Sultan of Granada. Under the administration of 
this vizier many of the noblest public works were executed. He 
constructed an aqueduct by which water was brought from the 
mountains of Alfacar to irrigate the hills and orchards north of 
the city. He planted a public walk with cypress-trees, and 
" made delicious gardens for the solace of the melancholy Moors." 
" The name of Maumal," says Alcantara, "ought to be preserved 
m Granada in letters of gold." Perhaps it is as well preserved 
by being associated with the garden he planted ; and by being 
mentioned in the verses of Hafsah. How often does a casual 
word from a poet confer immortality ! 

Perhaps the reader may be curious to learn something of the 
story of Hafsah and her lover, thus connected with one of the 
beautiful localities of Granada. The following are all the partic- 
ulars I have been able to rescue out of the darkness and obliv- 
ion which have settled upon the brightest names and geniuses 
of Moslem Spain. 

Ahmed and Hafsah flourished in the sixth century of the 
Hegira; the twelfth of the Christian Era. Ahmed was the 
son of the Alcayde of Alcala la Real. His father designed him 
for public and military life, and would have made him his lieu- 
tenant ; but the youth was of a poetical temperament, and pre- 
ferred a life of lettered ease in the delightful abodes of Granada. 
Here he surrounded himself by objects of taste in the arts, and 
by the works of the learned ; he divided his time between study 
and social enjoyment. He was fond of the sports of the field, 
and kept horses, hawks, and hounds. He devoted himself to 
literature, became renowned for erudition, and his compositions 
in prose and verse were extolled for their beauty, and in the 
mouths of every one. 

Of a tender, susceptible heart, and extremely sensible to fe- 
male charms, he became the devoted lover of Hafsah. The 
passion was mutual, and for once the course of true love ap- 
peared to run smooth. The lovers were both young, equal in 



330 THE ALHAMBRA 

merit, fame, rank, and fortune, enamored of each other's genius 
as well as person, and inhabiting a region formed to be a realm 
of love and poetry. A poetical intercourse was carried on be- 
tween them that formed the delight of Granada. They were 
continually interchanging verses and epistles; "the poetry of 
which," says the Arabian writer, Al Makkari, " was like the 
language of doves." 

In the height of their happiness a change took place in the 
government of Granada. It was the time when the Almohades, 
a Berber tribe of Mount Atlas, had acquired the control of Mos- 
lem Spain, and removed the seat of government from Cordova 
to Morocco. The Sultan Abdelmuman governed Spain through 
his Walls and Alcaydes, and his son, Sidi Abu Said, was made 
Wall of Granada. He governed in his father's name with royal 
state and splendor, and with despotic sway. Being a stranger 
in the country, and a Moor by birth, he sought to strengthen 
himself by drawing round him popular persons of the Arab race ; 
and to this effect made Ahmed, who was then in the zenith of 
his fame and popularity, his vizier. Ahmed would have de- 
clined the post, but the Wall was peremptory. His duties 
were irksome to him, and he spurned at its restraint. On a 
hawking-party, with some of his gay companions, he gave way 
to his poetic vein, exulting in his breaking away from the 
thraldom of a despotic master like a hawk from the jesses of 
the falconer, to follow the soaring impulses of his soul. 

His words were repeated to Sidi Abu Said. " Ahmed," said 
the informant, " spurns at restraint and scoffs at thy authority." 
The poet was instantly dismissed from office. The loss of an 
irksome post was no grievance to one of his joyous tempera- 
ment ; but he soon discovered the real cause of his removal, 
The AVali was his rival. He had seen and become enamored 0/ 
Hafsah. What was worse, Hafsah was dazzled with the con 
quest she had made. 

For n, time Ahmed treated the matter with ridicule ; and ap 



81DI ABU SAID ' 331 

pealed to the prejudice existing between the Arab and Moorish 
races. Sidi Abu Said was of a dark olive complexion. " How 
canst thou endure that black man ? " said he, scornfully. " By 
Allah, for twenty dinars I can buy thee a better than he in the 
slave-market." 

The scoff reached the ears of Sidi Abu Said and rankled in 
his heart. 

At other times Ahmed gave way to grief and tenderness, re- 
calling past scenes of happiness, reproaching Hafsah with her 
inconstancy, and warning her in despairing accents that she 
would be the cause of his death. His words were unheeded. 
The idea of having the son of the Sultan for a lover had cap- 
tivated the imagination of the poetess. 

Maddened by jealousy and despair, Ahmed joined in a con- 
spiracy against the ruling dynasty. It was discovered, and the 
conspirators fled from Granada. Some escaped to a castle on 
the mountains, Ahmed took refuge in Malaga, where he con- 
cealed himself, intending to embark for Valencia. He was dis- 
covered, loaded with chains, and thrown into a dungeon, to 
abide the decision of Sidi Abu Said. 

He was visited in prison by a nephew, who has left on record ' 
an account of the interview. The youth was moved to tears at 
seeing his illustrious relative, late so prosperous and honored, 
fettered like a malefactor. 

** Why dost thou weep ? " said Ahmed. " Are these tears 
shed for me? For me, who have enjoyed all that the world 
could give ? Weep not for me. I have had my share of hap- 
piness ; banqueted on the daintiest fare ; quaffed out of crystal 
cups ; slept on beds of down ; been arrayed in the richest silks 
and brocades ; ridden the fleetest steeds ; enjoyed the loves of 
the fairest maidens. Weep not for me. My present reverse is 
but the inevitable course of fate. I have committed acts which 
render pardon hopeless. I must await my punishment." 

His presentiment was correct. The vengeance of Sidi Ab 



332 THE ALHAMBRA 

Said was only to be satisfied by the blood of his rival, and the 
unfortunate Ahmed was beheaded at Malaga, in the month 
Jumadi, in the year 559 of the Hegira (April, 1164). When 
the news was brought to the fickle-hearted Hafsah, she was 
struck with sorrow and remorse, and put on mourning ; recall- 
ing his warning words, and reproaching herself with being the 
cause of his death. 

Of the after fortunes of Hafsah I have no further trace than 
that she died in Morocco, in 1184, outliving both her lovers, 
for Sidi Abu Said died in Morocco of the plague in 1175. A 
memorial of his residence in Granada remained in a palace 
which he built on the banks of the Xenil. The garden of Mau- 
mal, the scene of the early lives of Ahmed and Hafsah, is no 
longer in existence. Its site may be found by the antiquary in 
poetical research.^ 

1 Miguel Lafuente Alcantara. 

2 The authorities for the foregoing : Alcantara, Hist. Granada ; 
Al Makkari, Hist. Mohamed ; Dynasties in Spain, B. ii. c. 3 ; Notes 
and illustrations of the same, by Gayangos, Vol. I. p. 440 ; Ibnu 
Al Kahttib, Biograph. Die, cited by Gayangos; Conde Hist. Dom. 
Arab. 



AN EXPEDITION IN QUEST OF A DIPLOMA 

One of the most important occurrences in the domestic life 
of the Alhambra, was the departure of Manuel, the nephew of 
Dona Antonia, for Malaga, to stand examination as a physician. 
I have already informed the reader that, on his success in ob- 
taining a degree depended in a great measure the union and 
future fortunes of himself and his cousin Dolores ; at least so I 
was privately informed by Mateo Ximenes, and various circum- 
stances concurred to corroborate his information. Their court- 
ship, however, was carried on very quietly and discreetly, and 



TIO POLO 333 

I scarce think I should have discovered it, if I had not been put 
on tlie alert by the all-observant Mateo. 

In the present instance, Dolores was less on the reserve, and 
had busied herself for several days in fitting out honest Manuel 
for his expedition. All his clothes had been arranged and 
packed in the neatest order, and above all she had worked a 
smart Andalusian travelling-jacket for him with her own hands. 
On the morning appointed for his departure, a stout mule on 
which he was to perform the journey was paraded at the portal 
of the Alhambra, and Tio Polo (Uncle Polo), an old invalid 
soldier, attended to caparison him. This veteran was one of 
the curiosities of the place. He had a leathern lantern visage, 
tanned in the tropics, a long Roman nose, and a black beetle 
eye. I had frequently observed him reading, apparently with 
intense interest, an old parchment-bound volunie ; sometimes he 
would be surrounded by a group of his brother invalids ; some 
seated on the parapets, some lying on the grass, listening with 
fixed attention, while he read slowly and deliberately out of 
his favorite work, sometimes pausing to explain or expound for 
the benefit of his less enlightened auditors. 

I took occasion one day to inform myself of this ancient book, 
which appeared to be his vade mecum, and found it to be an 
odd volume of the works of Padre Benito Geronymo Feyjoo ; 
and that one which treats about the Magic of Spain, the 
mysterious caves of Salamanca and Toledo, the Purgatory of 
San Patricio (St. Patrick), and other mystic subjects of the 
kind. From that time I kept my eye upon the veteran. 

On the present occasion I amused myself with watching him 
fit out the steed of Manuel with all the forecast of an old cara- 
paignero First he took a considerable time in adjusting to the 
back of the mule a cumbrous saddle of antique fashion, high in 
front and behind, with Moorish stirrups like shovels ; the whole 
looking like a relic of the old armory of the Alhambra ; then a 
fleecy sheepskin was accommodated to the deep seat of the saddle : 



334 THE ALHAMBRA 

then a maleta, neatly packed by the hand of Dolores, was 
buckled behind ; then a manta was thrown over it to serve 
either as cloak or couch; then the all-important alforjas, care- 
fully stocked with provant, were hung in front, together with 
the bota, or leathern bottle for either wine or water, and lastly 
the trabucho, which the old soldier slung behind, giving it his 
benediction. It was like the fitting out in old times of a Moor- 
ish cavalier for a foray or a joust in the Vivarrambla. A num- 
ber of the lazzaroni of the fortress had gathered round, with 
some of the invalids, all looking on, all offering their aid, and 
all giving advice, to the great annoyance of Tio Polo. 

When all was ready Manuel took leave of the household ; 
Tio Polo held his stirrup while he mounted, adjusted the girths 
and saddle, and cheered him off in military style ; then turning 
to Dolores, who stood admiring her cavalier as he trotted off, 
"Ah Dolorocita," exclaimed he, with a nod and a wink, "es 
muy guapo Manuelito in su Xaqueta " (Ah Dolores, Manuel is 
mighty fine in his jacket). The little damsel blushed and 
laughed, and ran into the house. 

Days elapsed without tidings from Manuel, though he had 
promised to write. The heart of Dolores began to misgive her. 
Had anything happened to him on the road ? Had he failed in 
his examination 1 A circumstance occurred in her little house- 
hold to add to her uneasiness and fill her mind with foreboding. 
It was almost equal to the escapado of her pigeon. Her tortoise- 
shell cat eloped at night and clambered to the tiled roof of the 
Alhambra. In the dead of the night there was a fearful cater- 
wauling ; some grimalkin was uncivil to her ; then there was a 
scramble ; then a clapper-clawing ; then both parties rolled off 
the roof and tumbled from a great height among the trees on 
the hill-side. Nothing more was seen or heard of the fugitive, 
and poor Dolores considered it but the prelude to greater calami- 
ties. 

At the end of ten days, however, Manuel returned in triumph. 



TIO POLO 335 

duly authorized to kill or cure ; and all Dolores' cares were over. 
There was a general gathering in the evening of the humble 
friends and hangers-on of Dame Antonia to congratulate her and 
to pay their respects to el Senor Medico, who, peradventure, 
at some future day, might have all their lives in his hands. 
One of the most important of these guests was old Tio Polo ; 
and I gladly seized the occasion to prosecute my acquaintance 
with him. ''Oh Senor^" cried Dolores, "you who are so eager 
to learn all the old histories of the Alhambra, Tio Polo knows 
more about them than any one else about the place. More 
than Mateo Ximenes and his whole family put together. Vaya 
— Vaya — Tio Polo, tell the Senor all those stories you told 
us one evening, about enchanted Moors, and the haunted bridge 
over the Darro, and the old stone pomegranates, that have been 
there since the days of King Chico." 

It was some time before the old invalid could be brought into 
a narrative vein. He shook his head — they were all idle tales ; 
not worthy of being told to a cavallero like myself. It was 
only by telling some stories of the kind myself I at last got 
him to open his budget. It was a whimsical farrago, partly 
made up of what he had heard in the Alhambra, partly of what 
he had read in Padre Feyjoo. I will endeavor to give the 
reader the substance of it, but I will not promise to give it in 
the very words of Tio Polo. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ENCHANTED SOLDIER 

Everybody has heard of the Cave of St. Cyprian at Sala- 
manca, where in old times judicial astronomy, necromancy, 
chiromancy, and other dark and damnable arts were secretly 
taught by an ancient sacristan ; or, as some will have it, by 
the devil himself, in that disguise. The cave has long been 
shut up and the very site of it forgotten ; though, according to 



336 THE ALHAMBRA 

tradition, the entrance was somewhere about where the stone 
cross stands in the small square of the seminary of Carvajai ; 
and this tradition appears in some degree corroborated by the 
circumstances of the following story. 

There was at one time a student of Salamanca, Don Vicente 
by name, of that merry but mendicant class who set out on 
the road to learning without a penny in pouch for the journey, 
and who, during college vacations, beg from town to town and 
village to village to raise funds to enable them to pursue their 
studies through the ensuing term. He was now about to set 
forth on his wanderings ; and being somewhat musical, slung 
on his back a guitar with which to amuse the villagers, and 
pay for a meal or a night's lodging. 

As he passed by the stone cross in the seminary square, he 
pulled off his hat and made a short invocation to St. Cyprian, 
for good luck ; when casting his eyes upon the earth, he per- 
ceived something glitter at the foot of the cross. On picking it 
up, it proved to be a seal-ring of mixed metal, in which gold and 
silver appeared to be blended. The seal bore as a device two 
triangles crossing each other, so as to form a star. This device 
is said to be a cabalistic sign, invented by king Solomon the 
wise, and of mighty power in all cases of enchantment; but 
the honest student, being neither sage nor conjurer, knew noth- 
ing of the matter. He took the ring as a present from St. 
Cyprian in reward of his prayer ; slipped it on his finger, made 
a bow to the cross, and strumming his guitar, set off merrily on 
his wandering. 

The life of a mendicant student in Spain is not the most miser- 
able in the world ; especially if he has any talent at making 
himself agreeable. He rambles at large from village to village, 
and city to city, wherever curiosity or caprice may conduct him. 
The country curates, who, for the most part, have been mendi- 
cant students in their time, give him shelter for the night, and 
a comfortable meal, and often enrich him with several quartos 



A MENDICANT STUDENT 337 

or half-pence in the morning. As he presents himself from 
door to door in the streets of the cities, he meets with no harsh 
rebuff, no chilling contempt, for there is no disgrace attending 
his mendicity, many of the most learned men in Spain having 
commenced their career in this manner ; but if, like the student 
in question, he is a good-looking varlet and a merry companion ; 
and, above all, if he can play the guitar, he is sure of a hearty 
welcome among the peasants, and smiles and favors from their 
wives and daughters. 

In this way, then, did our ragged and musical son of learning 
make his way over half the kingdom ; with the fixed determina- 
tion to visit the famous city of Granada before his return. 
Sometimes he was gathered for the night into the fold of some 
village pastor; sometimes he was sheltered under the humble 
but hospitable roof of the peasant. Seated at the cottage-door 
with his guitar, he delighted the simple folk with his ditties ; or 
striking up a fandango or bolero, set the brown country lads 
and lasses dancing in the mellow twilight. In the morning he 
departed with kind words from host and hostess, and kind looks 
and, peradventure, a squeeze of the hand from the daughter. 

At length he arrived at the great object of his musical vaga- 
bondizing, the far-famed city of Granada, and hailed with won- 
der and delight its Moorish towers, its lovely vega, and its 
snowy mountains glistening through a summer atmosphere. It 
is needless to say with what eager curiosity he entered its gates 
and wandered through its streets, and gazed upon its oriental 
monuments. Every female face peering through a window or 
beaming from a balcony was to him a Zorayda or a Zelinda, nor 
could he meet a stately dame on the Alameda but he was ready 
to fancy her a Moorish princess, and to spread his student's robe 
beneath her feet. 

His musical talent, his happy humor, his youth and his good 
looks, won him a universal welcome in spite of his ragged robes, 
and for several days he led a gay life in the old Moorish capital 



3o8 THE ALHAMBRA 

and its environs. One of his occasional haunts was the toun 
tain of Avellanos, in the valley of Darro. It is one of the 
popular resorts of Granada, and has been so since the days of 
the Moors ; and here the student had an opportunity of pursu- 
ing his studies of female beauty, a branch of study to which 
he was a little prone. 

Here he would take his seat with his guitar, improvise love- 
ditties to admiring groups of majos and majas, or prompt with 
his music the ever-ready dance. He was thus engaged one 
evening when he beheld a padre of the church advancing, at 
whose approach every one touched the hat. He was evidently 
a man of consequence ; he certainly was a mirror of good if not 
of holy living; robust and rosy-faced, and breathing at every 
pore with the warmth of the weather and the exercise of the 
walk. As he passed along he would every now and then draw 
a maravedi out of his pocket and bestow it on a beggar with 
an air of signal beneficence. " Ah, the blessed father ! " would 
be the cry ; " long life to him, and may he soon be a bishop ! " 

To aid his steps in ascending the hill he leaned gently now 
and then on the arm of a handmaid, evidently the pet lamb of 
this kindest of pastors. Ah, such a damsel ! Andalus from 
head to foot ; from the rose in her hair, to the fairy shoe and 
lacework stocking ; Andalus in every movement ; in every un- 
dulation of the body : — ripe, melting Andalus ! — But then so 
modest ! — so shy ! — ever, with downcast eyes, listening to the 
words of the padre ; or, if by chance she let flash a side glance, 
it was suddenly checked and her eyes once more cast to the 
ground. 

The good padre looked benignantly on the company about 
the fountain, and took his seat with some emphasis on a stone 
bench, while the handmaid hastened to bring him a glass of 
sparkling water. He sipped it deliberately and with a relish, 
tempering it with one of those spongy »pieces of frosted eggs 
and sugar so dear to Spanish epicures, and on returning the 



A MODEL PASTOR 339 

glass to the hand of the damsel pinched her cheek with infinite 
loving-kindness. 

"Ah, the good pastor!" whispered the student to himself; 
*' what a happiness would it be to be gathered into his fold 
with such a pet lamb for a companion ! " 

But no such good fare was likely to befall him. In vain he 
essayed those powers of pleasing which he had found so irre- 
sistible with country curates and country lasses. Never had he 
touched his guitar with such skill ; never had he poured forth 
more soul-moving ditties, but he had no longer a country curate 
or country lass to deal with. The worthy priest evidently did 
not relish music, and the modest damsel never raised her eyes 
from the ground. They remained but a short time at the 
fountain; the good padre hastened their return to Granada. 
The damsel gave the student one shy glance in retiring ; but 
it plucked the heart out of his bosom ! 

He inquired about them after they had gone. Padre Tomas 
was one of the saints of Granada, a model of regularity ; punc- 
tual in his hour of rising ; his hour of taking a paseo for an 
appetite; his hours of eating; his hour of taking his siesta; 
his hour of playing his game of tresilloj of an evening, with 
some of the dames of the Cathedral circle ; his hour of supping, 
and his hour of retiring to rest, to gather fresh strength for 
another day's round of similar duties. He had an easy sleek 
mule for his riding ; a matronly housekeeper skilled in prepar- 
ing tid-bits for his table; and the pet lamb, to smooth his 
pillow at night and bring him his chocolate in the morning. 

Adieu now to the gay, thoughtless life of the student ; the 
side glance of a bright eye had been the undoing of him. Day 
and night he could not get the image of this most modest 
damsel out of his mind. He sought the mansion of the padre. 
Alas ! it was above the class of houses accessible to a strolling 
student like himself. The worthy padre had no sympathy with 
him ; he had never been Estudiante sopista, obliged to sing foi 



340 THE ALHAMBRA 

his supper. He blockaded the house by day, catching a glance 
of the damsel now and then as she appeared at a casement ; 
but these glances only fed his flame without encouraging his 
hope. He serenaded her balcony at night, and at one time was 
flattered by the appearance of something white at a window. 
Alas, it was only the night-cap of the padre. 

Never was lover more devoted ; never damsel more shy : the 
poor student was reduced to despair. At length arrived the 
eve of St, John, when the lower classes of Granada swarm into 
the country, dance away the afternoon, and pass midsummer's 
night on the banks of the Darro and the Xenil. Happy are 
they who on this eventful night can wash their faces in those 
waters just as the cathedral bell tells midnight, for at that pre- 
cise moment they have a beautifying power. The student, hav- 
ing nothing to do, suffered himself to be carried away by the 
holiday -seeking throng until he found himself in the narrow 
valley of the Darro, below the lofty hill and ruddy towers of 
the Alhambra. The dry bed of the river; the rocks which 
border it ; the terraced gardens which overhang it, were alive 
with variegated groups dancing under the vines and fig-trees to 
the sound of the guitar and castanets. 

Tlie student remained for some time in doleful dumps, lean- 
ing against one of the huge misshapen stone pomegranates 
which adorn the ends of the little bridge over the Darro. He 
cast a wistful glance upon the merry scene, where every cavalier 
had his dame ; or, to speak more appropriately, every Jack his 
Jill ; sighed at his own solitary state, a victim to the black eye 
of the most unapproachable of damsels, and repined at his ragged 
garb, which seemed to shut the gate of hope against him. 

By degrees his attention was attracted to a neighbor equally 
solitary with himself. This was a tall soldier, of a stern aspect 
and grizzled beard, who seemed posted as a sentry at the oppo- 
site pomegranate. His face was bronzed by time ; he was 
arrayed in ancient Spanish armor, with buckler and lance, and 



THE ANTIQUE SENTRY 341 

stood immovable as a statue. What surprised the student was 
that though thus strangely equipped, he was totally unnoticed by 
the passing throng, albeit that many almost brushed against him. 

" This is a city of old time peculiarities," thought the student, 
" and doubtless this is one of them with which the inhabitants 
are too familiar to be surprised." His own curiosity, however, 
was awakened, and being of a social disposition, he accosted the 
soldier. 

"A rare old suit of armor that which you wear, comrade. 
May I ask what corps you belong to ? " 

The soldier gasped out a reply from a pair of jaws which 
seemed to have rusted on their hinges. 

" The royal guard of Ferdinand and Isabella." 

" Santa Maria ! Why, it is three centuries since tha.t corps 
was in service." 

"And for three centuries have I been mounting guard. Now 
I trust my tour of duty draws to a close. Dost thou desire 
fortune 1 " 

The student held up his tattered cloak in reply. 

"I understand thee. If thou hast faith and courage, follow 
me, and thy fortune is made." 

" Softly, comrade, to follow thee would require small courage 
in one who has nothing to lose but life and an old guitar, neither 
of much value : but my faith is of a different matter, and not to 
be put in temptation. If it be any criminal act by which I am 
to mend my fortune, think not my ragged cloak will make me 
undertake it." 

The soldier turned on him a look of high displeasure. " My 
sword," said he, " has never been drawn but in the cause of 
the faith and the throne. I am a Cristiano viejo ; trust in me 
and fear no evil." 

The student followed him wondering. He observed that no 
one heeded their conversation, and that the soldier made his way 
through the various groups of idlers unnoticed, as if invisible. 



542 THE ALHAMBRA 

Crossing the bridge, the soldier led the way by a narrow anA 
steep path past a Moorish mill and aqueduct, and up the ravine 
which separates the domains of the Generalife from those of the 
Alhambra. The last ray of the sun shone upon the red battle- 
ments of the latter, which beetled far above ; and the convent- 
bells were proclaiming the festival of the ensuing day. The 
ravine was overshadowed by fig-trees, vines, and myrtles, and 
the outer towers and walls of the fortress. It was dark and 
lonely, and the twilight-loving bats began to flit about. At 
length the soldier halted at a remote and ruined tower, appar- 
ently intended to guard a Moorish aqueduct. He struck the 
foundation with the but-end of his spear. A rumbling sound 
was heard, and the solid stones yawned apart, leaving an open- 
ing as wide as a door. 

"Enter in the name of the Holy Trinity," said the soldier, 
*' and fear nothing." The student's heart quaked, but he made 
the sign of the cross, muttered his Ave Maria, and followed his 
mysterious guide into a deep vault cut out of the solid rock 
under the tower, and covered with Arabic inscriptions. The 
soldier pointed to a stone seat hewn along one side of the vault. 
" Behold," said he, " my couch for three hundred years." The 
bewildered student tried to force a joke. "By the blessed 
St. Anthony," said he, "but you must have slept soundly, con- 
sidering the hardness of your couch." 

" On the contrary, sleep has been a stranger to these eyes ; 
incessant watchfulness has been my doom. Listen to my lot. 
I was one of the royal guards of Ferdinand and Isabella ; but 
was taken prisoner by the Moors in one of their sorties, and 
confined a captive in this tower. When preparations were 
made to surrender the fortress to the Christian sovereigns, I was 
prevailed upon by an Alfaqui, a Moorish priest, to aid him in 
secreting some of the treasures of Boabdil in this vault, I was 
justly punished for my fault. The Alfaqui was an African 
necromancer, and by his infernal arts cast a spell upon me — - to 



SPELL-BOUND 343 

guard his treasures. Something must have happened to him, 
for he never returned, and here have I remained ever since, 
buried alive. Years and years have rolled away ; earthquakes 
have shaken this hill ; I have heard stone by stone of the tower 
above tumbling to the ground, in the natural operation of time ; 
but the spell-bound walls of this vault set both time and earth- 
quakes at defiance. 

" Once every hundred years, on the festival of St. John, the 
enchantment ceases to have thorough sway ; I am permitted to 
go forth and post myself upon the bridge of the Darro, where 
you met me, waiting until some one shall arrive who may have 
power to break this magic spell. I have hitherto mounted 
guard there in vain. I walk as in a cloud, concealed from 
mortal sight. You are the first to accost me for now three 
hundred years. I behold the reason. I see on your finger the 
seal-ring of Solomon the Wise, which is proof against all enchant- 
ment. With you it remains to deliver me from this awful dun- 
geon, or to leave me to keep guard here for another hundred years." 

The student listened to this tale in mute wonderment. He 
had heard many tales of treasures shut up under strong enchant- 
ment in the vaults of the Alhambra, but had treated them as 
fables. He now felt the value of the seal-ring, which had, in a 
manner, been given to him by St. Cyprian. Still, though 
armed by so potent a talisman, it is an awful thing to find him- 
self tete-a-tete in such a place with an enchanted soldier, who, 
according to the laws of nature, ought to have been quietly in 
bis grave for nearly three centuries. 

A personage of this kind, however, was quite out of the ordi- 
nary run, and not to be trifled with, and he assured him he 
might rely upon his friendship and good will to do everything 
in his power for his deliverance. 

"I trust to a motive more powerful than friendship," said 
the soldier. 

He pointed to a ponderous iron coffer, secured by locks in 



344 THE ALHAMBRA 

scribed with Arabic characters. "That coffer," said he, "con 
tains countless treasure in gold and jewels and precious stones. 
Break the magic spell by which I am enthralled, and one-half 
of this treasure shall be thine." 

"But how am I to do it?" 

" The aid of a Christian priest and a Christian maid is neces- 
sary. The priest to exorcise the powers of darkness ; the dam- 
sel to touch this chest with the seal of Solomon. This must be 
done at night. But have a care. This is solemn work, and 
not to be effected by the carnal-minded. The priest must be 
a Cristiano viejo a model of sanctity ; and must mortify the 
flesh before he comes here, by a rigorous fast of four-and-twenty 
hours : and as to the maiden, she must be above reproach, and 
proof against temptation. Linger not in finding such aid. In 
three days my fui'loiigh is at an end ; if not delivered before mid- 
night of the third, I shall have to mount guard for another century." 

"Fear not," said the student, "I have in my eye the very 
priest and damsel you describe ; but how am I to regain admis- 
sion to this tower ? " 

" The seal of Solomon will open the way for thee." 

The student issued forth from the tower much more gayly 
than he had entered. The wall closed behind him, and remained 
solid as before. 

The next morning he repaired boldly to the mansion of the 
priest, no longer a poor strolling student, thrumming his way 
with a guitar; but an ambassador from the shadowy world, 
with enchanted treasures to bestow. No particulars are told 
of his negotiation, excepting that the zeal of the worthy priest 
was easily kindled at the idea of rescuing an old soldier of the 
faith and a strong-box of King Chico from the very clutches of 
Satan ; and then what alms might be dispensed, what churches 
built, and how many poor relatives enriched with the Moorish 
treasure ! 

As to the immaculate handmaid, she was ready to lend hei* 



THE CHASTE SALUTE 345 

hand, which was all that was required, to the pious work ; and 
if a shy glance now and then might be believed, the ambassador 
began to find favor in her modest eyes. 

The greatest difficulty, however, was the fast to which the 
good padre had to subject himself. Twice he attempted it, 
and twice the flesh was too strong for the spirit. It was only 
on the third day that he was enabled to withstand the tempta- 
tions of the cupboard ; but it was still a question whether he 
would hold out until the spell was broken. 

At a late hour of the night the party groped their way up 
the ravine by the light of a lantern, and bearing a basket with 
provisions for exorcising the demon of hunger so soon as the 
other demons should be laid in the Red Sea. 

The seal of Solomon opened their way into the tower. They 
found the soldier seated on the enchanted strong-box, awaiting 
their arrival. The exorcism was performed in due style. The 
damsel advanced and touched the locks of the coffer with the 
seal of Solomon. The lid flew open ; and such treasures of gold 
and jewels and precious stones as flashed upon the eye ! 

" Here's cut and come again ! " cried the student, exultingly, 
as he proceeded to cram his pockets. 

" Fairly and softly," exclaimed the soldier. " Let us get the 
coffer out entire, and then divide." 

They accordingly went to work with might and main ; but 
it was a difficult task ; the chest was enormously heavy, and 
had been imbedded there for centuries. While they were thus 
employed the good dominie drew on one side and made a vigor- 
ous onslaught on the basket, by way of exorcising the demon of 
hunger which was raging in his entrails. In a little while a 
fat capon was devoured, and washed down by a deep potation 
of Val de penas ; and, by way of grace after meat, he gave a 
kind-hearted kiss to the pet lamb who waited on him. It was 
quietly done in a corner, but the tell-tale walls babbled it forth 
as if in triumph. Never was chaste salute more awful in its 



346 THE ALHAMBRA 

effects. At the sound the soldier gave a great cry of despair; 
the coffer, Avhich was half raised, fell back in its place and was 
locked once more. Priest, student, and damsel, found them- 
selves outside of the tower, the wall of which closed with a thun- 
dering jar. Alas ! the good padre had broken his fast too soon ! 

When recovered from his surprise, the student w^ould have 
reentered the tower, but learnt to his dismay that the damsel, 
in her fright, had let fall the seal of Solomon ; it remained 
within the vault. 

In a w'ord, the cathedral bell tolled midnight ; the spell was 
renewed ; the soldier wa& doomed to mount guard for another 
hundred years, and there he and the treasure remain to this 
day — and all because the kind-hearted padre kissed his hand- 
maid, " Ah father ! father ! " said the student, shaking his 
head ruefully, as they returned down the ravine, " I feai* there 
was less of the saint than the sinner in that kiss ! " 

Thus ends the legend as far as it has been authenticated. 
There is a tradition, however, that the student had brought 
off treasure enough in his pocket to set him up in the world ; 
that he prospered in his affairs, that the worthy Padre gave 
him the pet lamb in marriage, by way of amends for the blunder 
in the vault ; that the immaculate damsel proved a pattern for 
wives as she had been for handmaids, and bore her husband 
a numerous progeny ; that the first was a wonder ; it was born 
seven montlis after her marriage, and though a seven months' 
boy, was the sturdiest of the flock. The rest were all born in 
the ordinary course of time. 

The story of the enchanted soldier remains one of the popular 
traditions of Granada, though told in a variety of ways ; the 
common people affirm that he still mounts guard on midsummer 
eve, beside the gigantic stone pomegranate on the Bridge of the 
Darro ; but remains invisible excepting to such lucky mortal as 
may possess the seal of Solomon. 



TEE CAVE OF SAN CYPRIAN 347 



NOTES TO THE ENCHANTED SOLDIER 

Among the ancient superstitions of Spain, were those of the 
existence of profound caverns in which the magic arts were tanght, 
either by the devil in person, or some sage devoted to his service. 
One of the most famous of these caves was at Salamanca. Don 
Francisco de Torreblanca makes mention of it in the first book of 
his work on magic, C. 2, No. 4. The devil was said to play the 
part of Oracle there ; giving replies to those who repaired thither 
to propound fateful questions, as in the celebrated cave of Troplio- 
nius. Don Francisco, though he records this story, does not put 
faith in it : he gives it however as certain, that a Sacristan, named 
Clement Potosi, taught secretly the magic arts in that cave. Padre 
Feyjoo, who inquired into the matter, reports it as a vulgar belief, 
that the devil himself taught those arts there ; admitting only seven 
disciples at a time, one of whom, to be determined by lot, was to 
be devoted to him body and soul forever. Among one of these sets 
of students was a young man, son of the Marquis de Villena, on 
whom, after having accomplished his studies, the lot fell. He suc- 
ceeded, however, in cheating the devil, leaving him his shadow in- 
stead of his body. 

Don Juan de Dios, Professor of Humanities in the University, in 
the early part of the last century, gives the following version of the 
story, extracted, as he says, from an ancient manuscript. It will 
be perceived he has marred the supernatural part of the tale, and 
ejected the devil from it altogether. 

As to the fable of the Cave of San Cyprian, says he, all that we 
have been able to verify is, that where the stone cross stands, in 
the small square or place called by the name of the Seminary of 
Carvajal, there was the parochial church of San Cyprian. A de- 
scent of twenty steps led down to a subterranean Sacristy, spacious 
and vaulted like a cave. Here a Sacristan once taught magic, 
judicial astrology, geomancy, hydromancy, pyromancy, acromancy, 
chiromancy, necromancy, etc. 

The extract goes on to state that seven students engaged at a 
time with the Sacristan," at a fixed stipend. Lots were cast among 
them which one of their number should pay for the whole, with 
the understanding that he on whom the lot fell, if he did not pay 
promptly, should be detained in a chamber of the Sacristy until 



348 THE ALHAMBRA 

the funds were forthcoming. This became thenceforth the usua. 
practice. 

On one occasion the lot fell on Henry de Yillena, son of the 
marquis of the same name. He having perceived that there had 
been trick and shuffling in the casting of the lot, and suspecting 
the Sacristan to be cognizant thereof, refused to pay. He was 
forthwith left in limbo. It so happened, that in a dark corner of 
the Sacristy was a huge jar or earthen reservoir for water, which 
was cracked and empty. In this the youth contrived to conceal 
himself. The Sacristan returned at night with a servant, bringing 
lights and a supper. Unlocking the door, they found no one in 
the vault, and a book of magic lying open on the table. They re- 
treated in dismay, leaving the door open, by which Villena made 
his escape. The story went about that through magic he had 
made himself invisible. — The reader has now both versions of the 
story, and may make his choice. I will only observe that the 
sages of the Alhambra incline to the diabolical one. 

This Henry de Villena flourished in the time of Juan II,, King 
of Castile, of whom he was uncle. He became famous for his 
knowledge of the Natural Sciences ; and hence in that ignorant 
age was stigmatized as a necromancer, Fernan Perez de Guzman, 
in his account of distinguished men, gives him credit for great 
learning, but says he devoted himself to the arts of divination, the 
interpretation of dreams, of signs, and portents. 

At the death of Villena, his library fell into the hands of the 
King, who was warned that it contained books treating of magic, 
and not proper to be read. King Juan ordered that they should 
be transported in carts to the residence of a reverend prelate to be 
examined. The prelate was less learned than devout. Some of 
the books treated of mathematics, others of astronomy, with figures 
and diagrams, and planetary signs ; others of chemistry or al- 
chemy, with foreign and mystic words. All these were necro- 
mancy in the eyes of the pious prelate, and the books were con- 
signed to the flames, like the library of Don Quixote. 

The Seal of Solomon. — The device consists of two equilateral 
triangles, interlaced so as to form a star, and surrounded by a 
circle. According to Arab tradition, when the Most High gave 
Solomon the choice of blessings, and he chose wisdom, there came 
from heaven a ring, on which this device was engraven. This 
mystic talisman was the arcanum of his wisdom, felicity, and 
grandeur ; by this he governed and prospered. In consequence of 



THE SEAL OF SOLOMON 349 

a temporary lapse from virtue he lost the ring in the sea, and was 
at once reduced to the level of ordinary men. By penitence and 
prayer he made his peace with the Deity, was permitted to find 
his ring again in the belly of a fish, and thus recovered his celestial 
gifts. That he might not utterly lose them again, he communi- 
cated to others the secret of tlie marvellous ring. 

This symbolical seal, we are told, was sacrilegiously used by the 
Mohammedan infidels ; and before them by the Arabian idolaters, 
and before them by the Hebrews, for "diabolical enterprises and 
abominable superstitions." Those who wish to be more thoroughly 
informed on tiie subject, will do well to consult the learned Father 
Athanasius Kirker's treatise on the Gahala Sarracenica. 

A word more to the curious reader. There are many persons in 
these skeptical times who aft'ect to deride everything connected 
with the occult sciences, or black art ; who have no faith in the 
efficacy of conjurations, incantations, or divinations ; and who 
stoutly contend that such things never had existence. To such de- 
termined unbelievers the testimony of past ages is as nothing ; they 
require the evidence of their own senses, and deny that such arts 
and practices have prevailed in days of yore, simply because they 
meet with no instance of them in the present day. They cannot 
perceive that, as the world became versed in the natural sciences, 
the supernatural became superfluous and fell into disuse ; and that 
the hardy inventions of art superseded the mysteries of magic. 
Still, say the enlightened few, those mystic powers exist, though 
in a latent state, and untasked by the ingenuity of men. A talis- 
man is still a talisman, possessing all its indwelling and awful 
properties ; though it may have lain dormant for ages at the bot- 
tom of the sea, or in the dusty cabinet of the antiquary. 

The signet of Solomon the Wise, for instance, is well known to 
have held potent control over genii, demons, and enchantments; 
now who will positively assert that the same mystic signet, wher- 
ever it may exist, does not at the present moment possess the same 
marvellous virtues which distinguished it in the olden time ? Let 
those who doubt repair to Salamanca, delve into the cave of San 
Cyprian, explore its hidden secrets, and decide. As to those who 
will not be at the pains of such investigation, let them substitute 
faith for incredulity, and receive with honest credence the fore- 
going leerend. 



\ 

350 THE ALHAMBRA 



THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO GRANADA 

My serene and happy reign in the Alhambra was suddenly 
brought to a close by letters which reached me, while indulging 
in oriental luxury in the cool hall of the baths, summoning me 
away from my Moslem elysium, to mingle once more in the 
bustle and business of the dusty world. How was I to en- 
counter its toils and turmoils, after such a life of repose and 
reverie ! How was I to endure its commonplace, after the 
poetry of the Alhambra ! 

But little preparation was necessary for my departure. A 
two-wheeled vehicle, called a tartana, very much resembling a 
covered cart, was to be the travelling equipage of a young 
Englishman and myself through Murcia, to Alicant and Valen- 
cia, on our way to France ; and a long-limbed varlet, who had 
been a contrabandista, and, for aught I knew, a robber, was to 
be our guide and guard. The preparations were soon made, 
but the departure was the difficulty. Day after day was it 
postponed ; day after day was spent in lingering about my 
favorite haunts, and day after day they appeared more delight- 
ful in my eyes. 

The social and domestic little world also, in which I had 
been moving, had become singularly endeared to me ; and the 
concern evinced by them at my intended departure, convinced 
me that my kind feelings were reciprocated. Indeed, when at 
length the day arrived, I did not dare venture upon a leave- 
taking at the good dame Antonia's ; I saw the soft heart of 
little Dolores, at least, was brimful and ready for an overflmv. 
So I bade a silent adieu to the palace and its inmates, and 
descended into the city as if intending to return. There, how- 
ever, the tartana and the guide were ready; so, after taking a 
noon-day's repast with my fellow-traveller at * the Posada, I set 
out with him on our journey. 



SORROWFUL PARTINGS 351 

Humble was the cortege and melancholy the departure oi 

El Rey Chico the Second ! Manuel, the nephew of Tia Antonia, 

Mateo, my officious but now disconsolate squire, and two or 

three old invalids of the Alhambra with whom I had grown 

into gossiping companionship, had come down to see me off; 

for it is one of the good old customs of Spain, to sally forth 

several miles to meet a coming friend, and to accompany him 

as far on his departure. Thus then we set out, our long-legged 

guard striding ahead, with his escopeta on his shoulder ; Manuel 

and Mateo on each side of the tartana, and the old invalids behind. 

At some little distance to the north of Granada, the road 

gradually ascends the hills; here I alighted and walked up 

slowly with Manuel, who took tliis occasion to confide to me 

the secret of his heart and of all those tender concerns between 

himself and Dolores, with which I had been already informed 

by the all-knowing and all-revealing Mateo Ximenes. His 

doctor's diploma had prepared the way for their union, and 

nothing more was wanting but the dispensation of the Pope, on 

account of their consanguinity. Then, if he could get the post 

of Medico of the fortress, his happiness would be complete ! 

I congratulated him on the judgment and good taste he had 

shown in Lis choice of a helpmate ; invoked all possible felicity 

on their union, and trusted that the abundant affections of the 

kind-hearted little Dolores would in time have more stable 

objects to occupy them than recreant cats and truant pigeons. 

It was indeed a sorrowful parting when I took leave of these 
good people and saw them slowly descend the hills ; now and 
then turning round to wave me a last adieu. Manuel, it is 
true, had cheerful prospects to console him, but poor Mateo 
seemed perfectly cast down. It was to him a grievous fall 
from the station of prime minister and historiographer, to his 
old brown cloak and his starveling mystery of ribbon- weaving ; 
and the poor devil, notwithstanding his occasional officiousness, 
had, somehow or other, acquired a stronger hold on my sym- 



352 THE ALHAMBRA 

pathies than I was aware of. It would have really been a con- 
solation in parting, could I have anticipated the good fortune 
in store for him, and to which I had contributed ; for the im- 
portance I had appeared to give to his tales and gossip and 
local knowledge, and the frequent companionship in which I had 
indulged him in the course of my strolls, had elevated his idea 
of his own qualifications and opened a new career to him; and 
the son of the Alhambra has since become its regular and well- 
paid cicerone; insomuch that I am told he has never been obliged 
to resume the ragged old brown cloak in which I first found him. 

Towards sunset I came to where the road wound into the 
mountains, and here I paused to take a last look at Granada. 
The hill on which I stood commanded a glorious view of the 
city, the Vega, and the surrounding mountains. It was at an 
opposite point of the compass from La cuesta de las lagrimas 
(the hill of tears), noted for the "last sigh of the Moor." I 
now could realize something of the feelings of poor Boabdil when 
he bade adieu to the paradise he was leaving behind, and beheld 
before him a rugged and sterile road conducting him to exile. 

The setting sun as usual shed a melancholy effulgence on the 
ruddy towers of the Alhambra. I could faintly discern the bal- 
conied window of the tower of Comares, where I had indulged 
in so many delightful reveries. The bosky groves and gardens 
about the city were richly gilded with the sunshine, the purple 
haze of a summer evening was gathering over the Vega ; every- 
thing was lovely, but tenderly and sadly so, to my parting gaze. 

"I will hasten from this prospect," thought I, "before the 
sun is set. I will carry away a recollection of it clothed in all 
its beauty." 

With these thoughts I pursued my way among the moun- 
tains. A little further and Granada, the Vega, and the Al- 
hambra, were shut from my view ; and thus ended one of the 
pleasantest dreams of a life, which the reader perhaps may think 
has been but too much made up of dreams. 



NOTES 

The text used in this edition follows that of the revised edition 
piiblislied a short time before Irving's death. Irving's language is 
so simple, his statements so clear and complete, that notes are 
largely unnecessary. Light might be thrown on the historical 
chapters by frequent references to The Conquest of Granada. 
The Alhambra is enjoyable and easily intelligible, however, with- 
out such references ; it therefore seems best to omit them entirely, 
at the same time strongly recommending that The Conquest of 
Granada be read. The notes that follow are of a general nature. 

Granada of To-day. —"It is with more or less justice that the 
modern Granada has been described as a ' living ruin.' A few of 
the chief streets are furbished up to a certain extent for the eyes 
of the visitor from foreign parts ; but the side streets are full of 
filth and decay, and some of the more remote are not even lighted 
at ni-ht The aristocracy prefers to spend its rents m Madrid. 
A lar-e proportion of the population subsists by begging alone. It 
is still questionable whether the hoped-for results will ensue from 
the opening of several large beetroot-sugar manufactories and the 
improvement of the mining industry in the Sierra Nevada When 
all is said however, Granada still remains as the culminating 
point of a journey to Spain, not only for its magnificent views of 
the great snow-clad mountains to the S.E., but also for the glimpse 
it affords of the past, the remains it has to present of a strange and 

exotic culture and art." , , , o • t^ -k. 

The above paragraph is from Baedeker's Spam. It may be 
added that at the time of the Conquest the population was proba- 
bly about five hundred thousand ; now it is estimated at sixty-five 
2 a ^^^ 



354 NOTES 

thousand. The Alhambra is practically the same to-day that it 
was when Irving visited it in 1829. Some of the rubbish about 
the palace has been cleared away, and the work of restoration, 
which has been going on slowly since 1828, has made some change? 
in the way of strengthening walls and removing many coats of 
whitewash which has for years concealed and protected beautiful 
Moorish fresco. No one lives in the palace ; it is national property, 
unused save as a visiting place for all tourists who travel through 
Spain. The Darrow Edition of The Alhambra is rich in illustra 
tions of the city and the palace as they appear to-day. 

The Moors in Spain. — Mohammed, born at Mecca, Arabia, 
founded a religion called Mohammedanism or Islam. Under the 
impetus of this religion, a large number of Arabians began a 
long line of migrations and conquests which took them through the 
north of Africa. In the eighth century, these Mohammedans, 
now mixed with the Moors of Barbary, though the Arabians re- 
tained leadership, invaded Spain, and conquered the Goths, who 
had. previously invaded the country from the north. In time they 
overran the entire peninsula, and established a strong kingdom 
which continued for about seven hundred years. Civil dissensions 
finally weakened the Moors, as they were popularly called, and 
they were conquered by Ferdinand, the Christian king of Spain, 
in 1492. He drove them back into Africa, and from this time on 
it is hard to trace their disintegration. Andalusia, a district in 
southern Spain principally contained in the basin of the Guadal- 
quivir, was the final stronghold of the Moors against the Christians. 
Granada was the capital city, and The Alhambra the citadel and 
royal palace in Granada. 

Don Quixote. — Irving refers frequently to a few standard works 
in Spanish literature, most frequently to Don Quixote. Sanclio, 
Quixote's squire, is often mentioned. This work is an extravagant 
romance by Miguel Cervantes, published early in the seventeenth 
century. It is a great work, a little tedious in parts to the modern 
reader, yet thoroughly enjoyable in an abridged edition such as 



NOTES 355 

the one recently published by The Macmillan Company. A bio- 
graphical dictionary will give interesting facts about the author. 

Lope de Vega. — A dramatist and poet (1562-1635). His life 
contains many interesting chapters, one of which has to do with 
the Spanish Armada. Perhaps the most wonderful thing of all is 
:hat he wrote eighteen hundred plays I This seems a fairy story, 
but it is reasonably well attested. Ticknor's History of Spanish 
Literature contains a good account of this most prolific writer. In 
this connection it may be noted that Ticknor, Prescott, and Irving 
form a trio of Americans who adopted Spain as a theme for study 
and writing. Motley, a fourth American historian, selected The 
Netherlands. 

Calderon. — Another celebrated dramatist and poet (1600-1681). 
A writer of many secular and religious plays ; a follower of Lope 
de Vega. 

Gil Bias. — A novel by Le Sage, a French novelist and drama- 
tist (1668-1747). He became interested in Spanish literature and 
translated a number of the works of Calderon, Lop§ de Vega, and 
others. From translations he passed to original composition, but 
borrowed freely from Spanish sources. Gil Bias is made up of 
pictures of Spanish life in all grades of society. It is a great 
novel, worthy to stand with Don Quixote, which it resembles in 
many ways. 

Punctuation. — Though based principally on laws of common 
sense, Punctuation is somewhat a matter of fashion and changes 
iTom time to time. Irving's punctuation is as superabundant as his 
style is leisurely, forming a marked contrast to that of most writers 
in this commercial era of haste. The temptation has been great to 
repunctuate ; yet aside from unavoidable changes necessary for 
approximate uniformity, few changes have been made. The reader 
will find it interesting to note carefully Irving's use of the comma 
and the hyphen. 



356 



NOTES 



Spanish Words. — Irving rarely uses a Spanish word without 
giving its English equivalent. The following vocabulary, though 
perhaps unnecessary, may prove a convenience : — 



Adalid, a chief. 
Alameda, a public walk. 
Alcazar, a fortress. 
Alforjas, saddle-bags. 
Alguazil, a constable. 
Arriero, a muleteer. . 
Atalaya, a watch-tower. 
Barranco, a momitain gully. 
Basquiila, an outer petticoat. 
Bolero, a Spanish dance. 
Bota, a bottle. 
Campina, a fertile plain. 
Contrabandista, a smuggler. 



Corregidor, a mayor. 
Escopetero, a musketeer. 
Escribano, a notary. 
Majo, a gay gallant. 
Maravedi, a small coin. 
Paseo, a icalk. 
Patio, a court. 
Posada, an inn. 
Puro, a cigar. 
Katero, a footpad. 
Trabuco, a carbine, 
Vega, a valley. 
Venta, an inn. 



Macraillan's 

Pocket Series of English Classics 

Cloth Uniform in Size and Binding 26 cents each 



Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. Edited by Zelma Gray, East Side 

High School, Saginav/, Mich. 
Andersen's Fairy Tales. Translated from the Danish by Caroline 

Peachey and Dr. H. W. DULCKEN. With biographical notes and 

introduction by Sarah C. Brooks, Training School, Baltimore, Md. 
Arabian Nights. Edited by Clifton Johnson. 
Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum and other Poems. Edited by Justus Coi • 

LINS Castleman, Bloomington High School, Bloomington, Ind. 
Bacon's Essays. Edited by Professor GEORGE Herbert Clarke 

Mercer University, Macon, Ga. 
Blackmore's Lorna Doone. Edited by AI-BERT L. Barbour, Superin- 
tendent of Schools, Natick, Mass. 
Browning's Shorter Poems. Edited by Franklin T. Baker, Teacher? 

College, New York City. 
Mrs. Browning's Poems (Selections from). Edited by Heloise E. 

Hershey. 
Bryant's Thanatopsis, Sella, and other Poems. Edited by J. H. Castle- 
man, Michigan Military Academy, Orchard Lake, Mich. 
Bulwer-Lytton's Last Days of Pompeii. Edited by J. H. Castleman. 
Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. Edited by Professor Hugh Mof- 

FATT Central High School, Philadelphia, Pa. 
Burke's Speech on Conciliation. Edited by S. C. Newsom, Manual 

Training High School, Indianapolis, Ind. 
Burns' Poems and Songs. Selected by P. M. Buck, Jl 
Byron's Shorter Poems. Edited by Ralph Hartt Bowles, Instructor 

in English in The Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N.H. 
Carlyle's Essay on Burns, with Selections. Edited by Willard C. 

Gore, Armour Institute, Chicago, 111. 
Carlyle's Heroes and Hero Worship. Edited by Mrs. Annie Russell 

Marble. , ,, ,, 

Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Edited by Charles A. McMurry. 
Chaucer's Prolop^ue to the Book of the Tales of Canterbury, the Knight's 

Tale, and the Nun's Priest's Tale. Edited by Andrew Ingraham. 
Church's The Story of the Iliad. 

Church's The Story of the Odyssey. _ ^ .. t , ^ 

Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. Edited by T. F. Huntington, Lelard 

Stanford Junior University. ^ . . 

Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. Edited by W. K. 'Wickes, Prmcipai of 

the High School, Syracuse, N.Y. 
Cooper's The Deerslayer. 
Cooper's The Spy, Edited by Samuel Thurber, Jr. 



Pocket Series i>f English Classics — CoNxiNUEb 



Dana's Two Years before the Mast. Edited by Homer E. Keyes 

Dartmouth College. . 
Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Edited by Clifton Johnson. 
De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. Edited by 

Arthur BeatTY, University of Wisconsin. 
De Quincey's Joan of Arc and The English Mail-Coach. Edited by 

Carol M. Newman, Virginia Polytechnic Institute. 
Dickens's A Christmas Carol and The Cricket on the Hearth. Edited bv 

James M. Sawin, with the collaboration of Ida M. Thomas 
Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities. Edited by H. G. Buehler, Hotchkiss 

School, Lakeville, Conn., and L. Mason. 
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. Edited by Percival Chubb, Vice-Prin- 
cipal Ethical Culture Schools, New York City. 
£arly American Orations, 1760-1824. Edited by Louie R. Heller, Ii> 

structor in English in the De Witt Clinton High School, New York City. 
Edwards's (Jonathan; Sermons (Selections). Edited by H. N. Gar- 
diner, Professor of Philosophy, Smith College. 
Emerson's Earlier Poems. Edited by O. C. Gallagher. 
Emerson's Essays (Selected). Edited by Eugene D. Holmes. 
Emerson's Representative Men. Edited by Philo Melvyn Buck, Jr.. 

William McKinley High School, St. Louis, Mo. 
Epoch-making Papers in United States History. Edited by M. S. Brown, 

New York University. 
Franklin's Autobiography. 
Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. Edited by Professor Martin W. Sampson, 

Indiana University. 
George Eliot's Silas Marner. Edited by E. L. Gulick, Lawrenceville 

School, Lawrenceville, N.J. 
Goldsmith's The Deserted Village and The Traveller. Edited by Robert 

N. Whiteford, High School, Pe.oria, Ml. 
vjoldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Edited by H. W. Boynton, Phillips 

Academy, Andover, Mass. 
Gray's Elegy. Edited by J. H. Castleman. 
Grimm's Fairy Tales. Edited by James H. Fassett, Superintendent of 

Schools, Nashua, N.H. 
Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. Edited by H. H. Kingsley, Superin- 
tendent of Schools, Evanston, 111. 
Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables. Edited by Clyde Furst 

Secretary of Teachers College, Columbia University. 
Hawthorne's' Mosses from an Old Manse. Edited by C. E. Burbank. 
Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. Edited by R. H. Beggs, 
Hawthorne's Twice-Toid Tales. Edited by C. R. Gaston. 
Hawthorne's The "Wonder-Book. Edited by L. E. Wolfe, Superintendent 

of Schools, San Antonio, Texas. 
Homer's Iliad. Translated by Lang, Leaf, and Myers. 
Homer's Odyssey. Translated bv Butcher and Lang. 
Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. Edited bv Charles S. Thomas. 
Irving's Alhambra. Edited by Alfred M. Hitchcock, Public High 

School, Har'ford, Conn. 
living's Knickerbocker History of New Y'^~'^. Edited by Prof. K A. 

Greenlaw, Adelphi College, New loik Cuv. 



Pocket Series of English Classics — Continued 



Irving's Life of Goldsmith. Edited by Gilbert Sykes Blakely, 
Teacher of English in the Morris High School, New York City. 

Irving's Sketch Book. 

Keary's Heroes of Asgard. Edited by Charles H. Morss. 

Kingsley's The Heroes : Greek Fairy Tales. Edited by Charles A. 
McMURRY, Ph.D. 

Lamb=' Essays of Elia. Edited by Helen J. Robins. 

Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. Edited by A. Ainger. 

Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. Edited by Homer P. Lewis. 

Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish, and Minor Poems. Edited 
by VV. D. Howe, Butler College, Indianapolis, Ind. 

Long,fellow"s Evangeline. Edited by Lewis B. Semple, Commercial 
High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn. Edited by J. H. Casti eman. 

Longfellow's The Song of Hiawatha. Edited by Elizabeth J. Flem- 
ing, Teachers' Training School, Baltimore, Md. 

Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal. Edited by Herbert E. Bates, Manual 
Training High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Macaulay's Essay on Addison. Edited by C. W. French, Principal of 
Hyde Park High School, Chicago, 111. 

Macaulay's Essay on Clive. Edited by J, W. Pearce, Assistant Pro- 
fessor of Enghsh in Tulane University. 

Macaulay's Essay on Johnson. Edited by William Schuyler, Assist- 
ant Principal of the St. Louis High School. 

Macaulay's Essay on Milton. Edited by C. W. French. 

Macaulay's Essay on Warren Hastings. Edited by Mrs. M. J. Frick, 
Los Angeles, Cal. 

Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, and other Poems. Edited by Franj<;- 
LIN T. Baker, Teachers College, Columbia University. 

Malory's Morte d' Arthur (Selections). Edited by D. W. Swiggett. 

Memorable Passages from the Bible (Authorized "Version). Selected 
and edited by FRED NEWTON ScOTT, Professor of Rhetoric in the 
University of Michigan. 

MiltoT^'s Paradise Lost. Books I and II. Edited by W. I. Crane. 

Old English Ballads. Edited by William D. Armes, of the University 
ot Cahfornia. 

Out of the Northland. Edited by Emilie Kip Baker. 

Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics. 

Plutarch's Lives of Caesar, Brutus, and Antony. Edited by Martha 
Brier, Polytechnic High School, Oakland, Cal. 

Poe's Poems. Edited by Charles W. Kent, University of Virginia. 

Poe's Prose Tales (Selections from). 

Pope's Homer's Iliad. Edited by Albert Smyth, Head Professor of Eiig- 
lish Language and Literature, Central High School, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Pope's The Rape of the Lock. Edited by Elizabeth M. King. 

Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies and The King of the Golden River. Edited 
by Herbert E. Bates. 

Scott's Ivanhoe. Edited by ALFRED M. HiTCHCOCK. 

Scott's Kenilworth. Edited by J. H. Castleman, Editor of Gray's 
Elegy, Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn, Bryant's ThanatODsis, 



Pocket Series of English Classics — CoNTiNUEb 



Scott's Lady of the Lake. Edited by Elizabeth A. Packard. 

Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. Edited by Rai,ph H. Bowles. 

Scott's Marmion. Edited by George B. Aiton, State Inspector of High 
Schools for Minnesota. 

Scott's Quentin Durward. Edited by ARTHUR Llewellyn Eno, In- 
structor in the University of Illinois. 

Scott's The Talisman. Edited by Frederick Treudley, State Normal 
College, Ohio University. 

Shakespeare's As You Like It. Edited by Charles Robert Gaston. 

Shakespeare's Hamlet. Edited by L. A, Sherman, Professor of English 
Literature in the University of Nebraska. 

Shakespeare's Henry V. Edited by Ralph Hartt Bowles, Phillips 
Exeter Academy, Exeter, N.H. 

Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Edited by George W. Hufford and 
Lois G. Hufford, High School, Indianapolis, Ind. 

Shakespeare's Macbeth. Edited by C. W. French. 

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Edited by Charlotte W. Under- 
wood, Lewis Institute, Chicago, 111. 

Shakespeare's Midsummer Wight's Dream. Edited by E. C. Noyes. 

Shakespeare's Richard II. Edited by James Hugh Moffatt. 

Shakespeare's The Tempest. Edited by S. C. Newsom. 

Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Edited by Edward P. Morton. 

Shelley and Keats (Selections from). Edited bv S. C. Newsom. 

Sheridan's The Rivals, and The School lor Scandal. Edited by W. D. 
Howe. 

Southern Poets (Selections from). Edited by W. L. Weber. 

Spenser's Faerie Queent, Book I. Edited by. George Armstrong 
Wauchope, Professor of English in the South Carolina College. 

Stevenson's Kidnapped. Edited by John Thompson Brown. 

Stevenson's Master of Ballantrae. "Edited by H. A. White. 

Stevenson's Treasure Island. Edited by H. A. Vance, Professor of Eng- 
lish in the University of Nashville. 

Swift's Gulliver's Travels. Edited by Clifton Johnson. 

Tennyson's Shorter Poems. Edited l)v Charles Read Nutter. 

Tennyson's The Princess. Edited by Wilson P^arrand. 

Thackeray's Henry Esmond. Edited by John Bell Henneman, Uni- 
versity of the South, Sewanee, Tenn. 

Washington's Farewell Address, and Webster's First Bunker Hill Ora- 
tion. Edited by WILLIAM T. PECK. 

John Woolman's Jourral. 

Wordsworth's Shorter Poems. Edited by Edward Fulton. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



